The Loss
by nyx thranduillon
Summary: Pre LOTR, Who is trying to kill Legolas and will they succeed? Aragorn and Legolas struggle to discover who is behind the plot but don't realise that an even worse danger has been awakened. WIP
1. Chapter 1

****My first attempt at a full fan fiction, usually I stick to poems but this was something that I just couldnt keep in any longer. Hope it is OK. Its set pre LOTR with Aragorn being in his early twenties and assumes that he is Elronds adoptive son, nothing new there then! My elvish is rather limited I'm afraid and my medical knowledge non existent so please bear with me. Any glaring errors you find I will gladly rectify when possible.

Of course, all characters etc belong to the great JRR Tolkien, but I do so wish...

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**The Loss.**

**Chapter One**

_Darkness beckons with cold fingers, making my heart feel sore, yet strangely good. I try to remember something, anything, but there is nothing there. Only the darkness. Has it always been this way? Somehow I seem to feel there was more, but I cannot say how. I am not even sure that I do know anymore._

_Darkness. All my world is darkness. I seem to think I should feel fear but cannot fathom why this should be so. In fact, I am becoming unsure what I mean by the term "fear", the more I try to dwell on it the further out of reach the feeling gets, until I can no longer remember what I was trying so hard for. _

_Darkness. Suffocating darkness, I struggle to breathe. Panic wells up inside me, where am I? What is happening to me? I remember nothing, just darkness. I force myself to breathe slowly, in, out, in, out. The rhythm calms me, slows my rapidly beating heart, relaxes me._

_Darkness. This is me, I exist for this, nothing else is real. I reach out and try to touch it, feel it envelop_  
_me, hold me and finally realise what I have known all along. The darkness is me and I am it._

Sunlight streams through the open window and falls across the figure lying motionless under the crisp sheets, illuminating the beautiful face, so pale and fair, which rests there almost blending into the white pillow. Expressionless, unmoving, as it has been for the best part of four days now

At the side of the bed a young man sits, grey eyes full of longing and sorrow fixed on the still form before him. His shoulders slump dejectedly, pain and grief are etched on his handsome face. He also has been here for four days. Hardly eating or sleeping, as if in limbo. Waiting for the slender being in the bed to move even the tiniest muscle to hint at a return to wakefulness. Yet the only sign that even a small spark of life exists there is in the shallow rise and fall of the sheet pulled over the slender shape, an indication of the small, irregular breaths tenuously keeping the figure in the land of the living.

A slight draft runs round the room as the door opens and a tall dark figure enters silently. The young man never turns his head or shows any sign of acknowledgement as the figure slowly walks over to the bed, and places a slender hand on his shoulder. " Still no change ?" the same question as had been asked so many times before. The only answer, a barely imperceptible shake of the young mans head.  
" You really should get some food and rest you know, you can do nothing for him like this Estel ". " I can be here" comes the soft reply and the man finally raises his head to look into the troubled eyes of his father. " If I am here he will know where to come back to".

_A soft sound drifts through the darkness. I try to listen but cannot make it out. I feel as if I should know this sound but it is so difficult, I find it hard to concentrate on anything other than the darkness that surrounds me. The sound comes again, soft as a thought, maybe it is in my thoughts. Maybe I am wishing for sound in this silent world that envelops me. I wait but hear nothing more. There is nothing to hear. The darkness closes back in again and I float in its silence._

"Legolas, mellon nin, my friend, " the soft sound escapes from trembling lips, " saes, please, come back, wake up". It is almost a prayer, whispered softly, a plea from the heart. The young man shakes his head and places a trembling hand upon the chest of the fair elven figure lying so still in front of him, feeling the faint beating of the heart of the one he has come to love so dearly. How had this happened? Exactly what had happened? Why was he not there to protect his friend? Too many questions were unanswered. Guilt threatened to overwhelm him and tears ran down his pale cheeks. " Saes, Leogolas, wake up, I need you to wake up" but there was no response.

It had all seemed so simple when they started out from Mirkwood what now felt like a lifetime ago. A simple trip to check on the wine delivery for King Thranduil from Esgaroth then on to Rivendell for a well earned rest for Legolas from battling with the dark encroaching into his fathers realm. There was nothing to go wrong, but then there never was. Trouble just seemed to follow them wherever they went.

The trip into Esgaroth was easy, for once Mirkwood was quiet and they met with nothing more scary then a stray rabbit on the way through the forest. It was on the way to Rivendell that their problems had begun. First they had run into a pack of orcs, all be it a small pack which were quickly dealt with without major injury to either of the two travellers, then there had been the thunderstorm, which normally wouldn't have been a problem except for the torrential rain which had soaked them both to the skin as there was no shelter to be had anywhere around them. Unable to get warm or dry Estel had developed a fever and for two days and nights Legolas had held him wrapped in his arms under a sodden blanket as he alternately shivered or sweated his way out of it. After this things seemed to pick up again and they were making good progress back to Estels home, laughing and plotting what mischief they could get up to when they finally met up there with his adoptive brothers once more. They were travelling through a wood on the edge of Rivendell when disaster struck. They had decided to make camp for the night in a small clearing by a bubbling stream so as to arrive in daylight hours, rather than disturbing the inhabitants of the last homely house during the night. He had been foraging for wood to make a fire whilst Legolas had unpacked blankets and their remaining items of food before stepping lightly to the stream and bending gracefully to fill their water containers.

The sudden twanging of a bow string followed by the loud gasp which had split the air made the man stand bolt upright, dropping the armful of dead branches he had thus far collected. " Legolas!" he had shouted, as he turned to look in the elf's direction. His blood had run cold and his heart felt like ice as he beheld the sight of the lithe figure he knew so well lying prone on the ground, his head in the icy stream, with one long, thin, green fletched arrow protruding from his stomach and another from the left side of his chest, looking dangerously close to the position of his heart.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_This darkness feels so comfortable, comforting, folding me into its soft embrace and holding me there, secure. Nothing can reach me here, nothing can hurt me. All thought ceases. Time ceases to exist. All else falls away to nothing. I am suspended in eternity and it feels so good, so right. I have long since stopped wondering about the who and the why of my existence before the dark came and have allowed it to lull me gently into a mindless stupor. I open myself to take it all in, to become one with its glorious touch, its serenity. Darkness floods the whole of my being and I feel released._

_Another sound breaks the tranquillity, low and soft like before but somehow more urgent, more persistent. I try to move through the darkness, to escape this unwanted intrusion into my peace but somehow cannot seem to get away. It surrounds me, pulling at my very being, insistently burrowing into my mind until I can stand it no more. I hear a long drawn out scream and recognise it has come from my own mouth. I try to hold on to the dark but it begins to ebb away. "Saes, please", I am begging to be left alone here in this sanctuary, begging the darkness to enfold me once more but it recedes further and further until at last I am left, sobbing, feeling as if my heart has been torn into pieces as noise and light assault my senses and an aching void fills my whole being._

"Saes, Legolas, please, wake up", the young man is leaning over the unmoving form lying in the bed, gently brushing the long golden hair framing the porcelain pale face with his fingers, repeating the plea over and over in soft tones laced with love. " Legolas, I need you, saes mellon nin, please, my friend, wake up". He has eaten little and slept less these past days, he doesn't even know how many days have passed any more. All he sees is the motionless being before him and it tears at his heart. Guilt washes over him time after time as he wonders what he could have done to prevent this, he should have been more alert, more aware of what was happening around him. That the elf now lying in front of him also hadn't appeared to sense any danger doesn't enter his mind. He feels that he should have and that gnaws at his heart. However many times his father and brothers tell him it is not his fault, could never be his fault, he cannot help but play the scene over and over in his head, looking for what he missed, the thing that he could have noticed or done to prevent the horror he could still see in his mind so clearly, from playing out to its present conclusion.

He had no recollection of running over to the stricken elf, stumbling over a tree root and almost falling on top of him in his agitated state. He remembers kneeling over his friend, quickly scanning his body with anxious eyes and noting, with alarm, the growing red stains blossoming over the front of the moss green tunic Legolas habitually wears when travelling. Short, ragged breaths were issuing from lips stretched taut with pain, but at least there were breaths. Oblivious to his surroundings Estel, struggled against the rising panic he felt rising within him. He needed to remain calm for there to be any chance of keeping life in the torn body in front of him. He needed to disassociate his mind from the who and concentrate on the how, but it was so hard to do when his very soul felt the agony of the separation that could yet happen. Forcing himself to breathe slowly his subconscious took over and led fingers and mind in a well known dance whilst they probed the depths the arrows had penetrated and surveyed their proximity to vital organs. He gave silent thanks to the Valar on realising that the arrows had both been wide of their mark, the one embedded in the Princes stomach was the least of his worries but that which Estel had initially thought to have pierced the most pure and generous of hearts had found rest just above and to the left of the organ. Blinking back the tears that threatened to blur his vision, the young man knew that although not immediately fatal the wounds may yet kill and quickly reviewed the options left open to him. His pack was out of reach and he did not want to waste time trying to retrieve it so he quickly grasped the hem of the travelling cloak lying bundled under the fallen elf and tore at it to create wads of fabric he could place around the offending projectiles to then push down hard upon with both hands applying pressure to staunch the flow of blood still seeping from both injuries. His tortured mind wondered how this had happened and then, more insistently, why? For the time being he forced the questions to the back of his mind and concentrated on the task at hand.

The red tide appeared to be ebbing as he pressed down on each wound, aware of the pain he would be causing but refusing to let his mind dwell on it. The prince suddenly tensed under his hands, then let out a quiet sigh and went limp, the tension leaving his usually fair face and body as consciousness finally fled. For the longest moment Estels heart leapt into his throat, he couldn't breathe! " No! Legolas!" His overloaded mind whirled as he tried to articulate his fear. " Don't leave me!" he tried to scream but no sound could escape from his constricted throat and panic once again threatened to overwhelm him. His healers instict then took over again and nudged his brain back into control as the shaking hand pressing on the left hand wound shifted to rest over where the elfs heart lay and relayed back the fact that there was a faint, irregular heartbeat still present and his stormy grey eyes noticed an almost imperceptible rise and fall in the chest he was staring at with such anguish, showing that there was still life in the frail body before him, albeit one holding on by a very fine thread. The young man knew that they had to get back to his father in Rivendell before that thread let go and he lost the one who meant so much to him, who was the other half to himself, and he didn't think that he could survive if that happened.

Calming his ragged nerves he gently let go of the pads he was still pushing against and removed his dagger from its sheath at his worn leather belt. Removing the arrows was not an option right now, they were better left to help plug the holes they had created in the smooth pale flesh, but if he wished to move the elf they would need to be shortened to minimise the risk of them being caught or pulled and causing further injury. Watching the two wounds carefully he realised that blood was no longer flowing freely from them but the stains almost obliterating the green of the fabric showed that much too much had already been lost. He had no time to loose. Thankful that the prince was unconscious he quickly cut through the first shaft lodged in the elfs stomach and cast it aside with a grimace, as if it burned his hand. He then turned his attention to the second, more perilous arrow, and had just made the final slice through the offending projectile when he felt his right shoulder seized in a vice like grip.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

_I feel. Pain. So much pain it threatens to overwhelm me. My body shakes uncontrollably. My body. I have a body. This feels strange. Yet. I cannot fathom why that should be. A sense of loss lingers in my mind, somewhere just out of reach, fluttering away like a butterfly caught in a breeze when I try to grasp it. Where am I? My confused mind tries to make connections but fails, why do I feel this pain? Each breath is an agony, a fire burning in my chest with each inhalation of air I take. My guts are being held in a vice like grip that twists them this way and that, attempting to force them free of my aching body. Confusion and fear rise within me like a river in flood and I try to force my mind to still, to regain control over these battered emotions . It is not working, I feel the trembling in my battered frame increase and with it the fear takes a tighter hold. I am powerless to stop it and as my body begins to buck and writhe without my consent my mind lets go with an almost audible snap. I feel a scream building within me that I am powerless to suppress and I allow it to gather force, building to a glorious crescendo before finally giving it voice in wonderful release._

The young man stiffens and for a few, interminable seconds is frozen in place, unable to twitch even the slightest of muscles. His dark ringed, mournful, grey eyes, already huge with fear in his ghostly pale face seem to widen yet further than humanly possible as his friends body suddenly begins to shake wildly beneath the white sheet he has so tenderly just placed back over it after checking on the bandages wrapped around the still raw wounds that do not appear to be healing as quickly as they should. "Ada!" the call erupts from his throat, "ADA!". Panic lends volume to his voice and the word seems to bounce off the walls of the room before exiting through the half open door to find the ears of the lord of Rivendel as he stands in the corridor outside conferring in hushed tones with his tall, dark-haired twin sons. All three of them turn towards the anguished cry, then with a quick, worried glance at each other hurry back to the healing room they have so recently departed, dreading what they will return to find.

As Elrond strides over towards the figure of his youngest son bent over the slight form on the bed he notices frantic movement beneath the covers. Estel's worried face turns to him with a heartfelt, plea in his tearful eyes. "What is happening Ada" he asks, "why is he shaking like this?" his voice catches in his throat as chokes back a sob. Assessing the scene in front of him with a practised glance Elrond replies gently "it is the stress from his wounds ion nin, his body is reacting to the trauma inflicted upon it and the loss of blood he has sustained.. Did he regain consciousness before this began?" One slim hand has automatically gone to the princes forehead, feeling for signs of fever whilst the other presses questing fingers over the slender neck, feeling the erratic, weak pulse that beats there, far too quickly for his liking.

Turning to look at the twins who are standing in the doorway mirroring the same worried expression on their identical faces he raises his eyebrows and nods towards the equipment at the side of the room, their eyes narrow in mute understanding. They quickly move towards the table where containers of herbs and infusions are kept in case of immediate need and with practised hands begin to gather together the various ingredients they feel their father may need to treat fever and pain. They have done this so many times there is no need for vocal communication. As they work together in perfect unison they become aware of strange scuffling sounds emanating from the other side of the room and turn towards the noise as one. Horror grips them as they watch their father and brother wrestling with the ailing elf as he apparently tries to fling himself out of the bed. " Sleeping draught, now!" Elrond shouts as he holds the princes heaving shoulders down against the bed. Estell has two slender legs held in an iron grip trying to stop them from twisting free as the spasming body gathers momentum. Elladan rushes over to the bed with a cup of liquid wondering how on earth they are going to get the injured elf to drink it whilst he watches helplessly as both father and son are suddenly launched into the air as Legolas suddenly arches his back then slams down onto the bed hard, his fragile appearance belying the strength within. The beautiful face contorts into an ugly grimace conveying a look of absolute agony and fear the like of which the four watchers can never recall seeing before and a palpable feeling of tension builds within the room. Then, catching them all unawares, the pale mouth opens wider than would appear physically possible and an unearthly, heartrending scream issues forth. The scream seems to last an eternity, and cuts right through to the souls of everyone who hears it. It travels all through the last homely house causing a sudden cessation of activity as those within are affected by its presence and even hours after it has eventually come to an end many still feel a deep sense of loss that they can not comprehend.

Both sound and movement come to an abrupt stop and the slender elven body in front of them goes completely limp with an air of awful finality. Elronds heart is in his mouth as he reaches out a tentative hand to seek for signs of life only to have his wrist suddenly grabbed and held fast by long, slender fingers in a lightning quick movement he would never have believed possible. Eyes, blue as a summers sky, suddenly shoot open and stare into his, holding them with an icy glare. The healer finds himself releasing a breath he was unaware he held and smiles gently into the face of the young elf that he holds as dear to his heart as a son. " Relax pen neth, young one", his voice soft with relief and compassion, " you are safe now."The azure eyes gradually lose the cold tension within their depths and he feels the steely grip on his wrist slacken, then finally disappear as the deceptively strong hold gives way and the hand falls gently back down onto the cool white sheet that has almost slid from the bed during their previous eyes stare with a lost, questioning gaze into warm, deep brown ones for a moment longer then lower in mute submission.

"Legolas, mellon nin, you are back with us". The words are almost a sigh as Estel, rising from the rug on the floor by the side of the be onto which he has fallen after being tossed from the errant, flailing legs earlier gazes with unabashed relief at the face of his lifelong friend. " I thought I had lost you this time," pain flickers deep within his storm grey eyes. " How do you feel?". Legolas raises his fair face again, seeking those eyes and locking them with his own in a gaze that transmits both love and trust to the one he knows will always be there for him as he will be for the other. Two souls forever intertwined, a strong and unusual bond for two not related, never mind not even of the same kind. " I ..am ..fine", his usually melodic voice sounds strained and harsh edged after the exploitation of vocal chords unused to the misuse recently given to them. A smile hovers at the corners of his mouth as he repeats this oft used phrase which has become the standard reply to that question over the past few years. " What .. Has.. ha….." as he tries to raise himself from the bed a sudden spasm of pain causes his breath to catch in his throat and the remainder of the sentence dies on his lips. The archers eyes close as he tries to gain control of his body and quell the agony rising within but his usually strong will seems strangely unequal to the task and as his body falls back to the soft embrace of the mattress beneath him his eyes flutter briefly, half opening, then close again as conscious thought flees from his grasp once more.

Grey eyes fill with concern as they stare down at the prostrate elf then quickly raise again to meet those of his adoptive father in a silent plea for reassurance. Lord Elrond nods " he needs to rest ion nin", he smiles gently to help support his words "this is for the best". Estels eyes lower once more as he takes this in and a small sigh of relief escapes his lips. For a moment he had feared the worst again and he was unsure how much more of this his overburdened heart could take. " At least it saves us from having to wrestle this into him" Elladan glances ruefully at the cup of sleeping draught he still clutches in his hand as he speaks, then moves to the table and deposits it there with a knowing look at his twin. The three brothers smile softly, they can all recollect just how difficult it is to get Legolas to swallow their fathers sleeping potion and share a sense of relief for the battle that has just been avoided.

Falling back into the chair beside the bed where he has practically lived since carrying the fallen prince into this room what feels like a lifetime ago the youngest member of the family runs his left had through the mop of unruly brown hair that seems determined to fall into his eyes and takes hold of the nearest, elegant, porcelain hand in his right. He notices that warmth has returned to the slender fingers and raises his gaze to watch the even rise and fall of the elven chest. "He sleeps", Elrond whispers from the other side of the bed, " look, although his eyes are closed his face has regained a little colour. I feel that he is over the worst now". Then, looking sternly into the young mans eyes he states, "you must sleep yourself Estel, go, you need to find your bed. We will stay with him and wake you if the need arises". The young man shakes his head in silent protest but feels hands on his upper arms as his brothers try to raise him from the chair. " I will sleep just fine here" he protests from behind a huge yawn, the relief he feels at his friends improved health suddenly opening his mind to the tiredness he has been suppressing for so many days. His eyelids droop, softly closing over the careworn grey eyes beneath them and he never notices when the twins finally lift him from the chair and carry him gently out to his own room before tenderly putting him into bed in a manner reminiscent of the many times they did the same for a sleepy child, too tired to climb the stairs at the end of a long days play. Sharing an indulgent smile the two dark-haired elves cover him over, plant light kisses on his forehead then quietly leave him softly snoring and, closing the door gently behind them head back to the healing room in which their long time friend lies under the watchful eyes of the lord of Rivendel their hearts feeling lighter than they have for many days.

TBC

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Thanks for the reviews so far. I'm glad you seem to like it so far, I just hope you continue to do so. Sorry if it seems a bit slow to get going but I have a feeling it will start to speed up soon!


	4. Chapter 4

****Thanks to those of you who have read so far and especially to those who have favourited/followed my little tale. Here's the next chapter. Hope you like it.

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**Chapter Four**

Fear rises within him, icy tendrils snaking around his core as he tries to move but finds his body is not under his command. He struggles to call out, straining his throat muscles with effort but for some reason he cannot fathom has no voice. A dark wave of terror begins to take over his mind , something feels wrong but he knows not what it is. He watches his truest friends lithe form leap the stream in an elegant bound then turn to face him with a smile that would light the darkest night on his fair face but for some reason chills his heart. Somehow he knows what is coming but can not look away, eyes locked on the scene about to play out in front of him in morbid fascination. As he stands, transfixed an arrow flies past his face, he feels the ruffling of his hair at its passing then it is gone, faster than thought, swiftly finding its soft, yielding target and the being he watches crumples, like folded paper, to the ground, slowly falling in front of him and all the while holding the smile fixed on his face. He feels the tears that wash from his eyes like a silver waterfall, blurring his vision, yet still he can not look away. His feet now move of their own volition and he suddenly finds himself standing over the stricken body, staring at it down the length of a green fletched arrow poised in a taut bow string for a brief moment in time which lasts an eternity, then launched by fingers beyond his control into the heart of the one he has called brother and he feels his own heart shatter under the impact.

Estels eyes snap open, a gasp escaping from between clenched lips as he suddenly sits bolt upright. Eyes bright with tears stare wide, trying to make sense of his surroundings. " A dream" he breathes " only a dream" as his sleep befuddled mind takes in the well known details of his own room. Then realisation hits hard, he feels the room lurch as he tries scramble out from between covers that have twisted tight around his body during the period of restless slumber. " Legolas" tears begin to rain down his face, following the tracks of those fallen previously whilst sleep had claimed him. " It was not I, it was not I" the words become a soft litany, repeated over and over as he tries to forget the feel of the arrow between his fingers, the pull of the bow whilst the string was drawn back prior to the release of the tension as he let it go then the noise as the missile impacted upon the fair beings body.

The young mans shoulders begin to shake as he buries his head in his hands in a futile attempt to erase the visions he still sees imprinted upon his minds eye. Guilt washes over him and he feels as if he is being tossed upon a sea of self loathing waiting to drown him in the sobbing tears that threaten to overwhelm all else. He does not hear the gentle opening of the door, nor feel the concerned presence of Lord Elrond enter, swiftly homing in upon the desolate figure of his human son to comfort and console as he has done since Estel was a small child having nightmares in the dark. "Sidh, ion nin, peace my son", his honey tones, laden with love are designed to soothe cares and allay unwanted fears. He starts to hum gently as he sits on the bed and gathers the human into his arms then begins to gently rock back and forth, replaying in his mind memories of the times he has done this before and knowing that he will repeat the actions as many times as they may be needed in the future.

Estel begins to quieten as he feels strong arms enfold him and the gentle humming of his fathers voice calms his jangled nerves. " What has so distressed you so much ion nin ? " long, slender fingers reach out and tilt the humans chin so that brown eyes can stare into grey. " Legolas is fine, the danger is past, he still sleeps peacefully. Was it a dream?" " I killed him Ada!" the whispered words clutch at Elronds heart. " No, Estel, you know that is not true" he gently pushes an errant brown lock of hair behind his sons ear. " In my dream I did", his face flushes with shame as he lowers his eyes, unable to bear the look of love in the dark brown eyes he knows so well. " In dreams we do many things penneth" the Lord gently raises Estels face to his own again. " They are not all right, they are not all real, you are carrying guilt that you need not bear". He holds the young mans gaze locked in his own, pouring all the love and compassion he holds in his heart for this human into the link between them and is finally rewarded with a soft smile. " I know, but it was so real, I fired the arrow, I felt it in my hand, felt the bow bend, saw him die." the words tumbled from his lips in a rush as the flood gates were opened and his dream was exposed, his fears acknowledged . " I should have been more attentive, I should have noticed something, I should have been able to stop it, I should… " His torrent of words was cut off abruptly as a slender finger was pressed against his erratic lips. " Hush ion nin, you did all you could. You saved his life with your prompt action" " But.." Estel tries to interrupt but finds the fingers gentle pressure is replaced. " If an elf did not perceive danger, how then could a man? Legolas will not want you to take blame where his heart will tell him none is to be had. You know this." With a resigned sigh the smile returns to the now silent lips, he knows the truth of his fathers words and can hear his friends voice in his head agreeing with the sentiments spoken as he has forcefully in the past when blame has settled upon his shoulders like a well worn blanket. " I do know Ada", his voice sounds small, as a young childs again. " But that does not stop the hurt. I didn't even try to find any trace of whoever fired the arrows until after Dan and Ro appeared, in fact, I dread to think what would have happened if they hadn't arrived when they did. " His thoughts go back to that harrowing evening. Remembering kneeling over the fallen elf, the river of red that appeared to flow from him without end, the accompanying metallic smell and the arrows, the green fletched arrows that looked so much like the princes own. He had not noted that detail himself, it was Elladan who spotted the likeness and that was the reason he had grabbed Estels arm when he was so intent on shortening the offending missiles. He had heard no approach, and had been startled half to death by his brother in the process. " But why should a Mirkwood archer wish to kill Legolas?" it was a question that had had first been voiced on the breakneck ride back to Rivendell with Legolas clutched in Estels arms on Elladans fleet footed stallion whilst the twins rode together on that of Elrohir. " We do not know that it was someone from Mirkwood, it may be that the perpetrator is merely trying to lead a false trail" replied Elrond thoughtfully " We may find out more when Legolas awakes properly and we can ask for his side of the tale. We can do no more until then". In one elegant move he rises to his feet and smiles down affectionately upon his youngest son. " Come Estel, I feel Legolas will soon awake and no doubt you would wish to be there when he does". " Try to keep me away". The young mans words bring an indulgent smile to the elders face. " Hannon Le, thank you, Ada, you always know how to lighten my heart". He scrambles from the bed and embraces his father tightly before they both turn to exit the room, hastening down the hall towards that in which the young prince at present still sleeps, in blissful ignorance of the hurt that has happened and that which they are all unaware is yet to come.


	5. Chapter 5

Soooo, here's the next one, its a filler really but I promise speed will pick up a bit soon.

I appreciate the reviews so far thanks. All feedback is gratefully received! Thanks to those who have put this on their favourites list too.

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Chapter Five

" And my heart nearly stopped altogether when I felt your hand on my shoulder Dan". The young man lounging comfortably in one of the tall chairs punctures the comment by throwing a soft white pillow over at the eldest of the twins sprawled on the remaining two chairs opposite who snatches it out of the air effortlessly and returns it with far more force, hitting Estel squarely in the face. "Elladan!" Comes the spluttered response, " that hurt". A burst of musical laughter from the slender being at rest between them accompanies the affronted look in the silver grey eyes and the pretended childish pout. " Well, I'm glad you found that funny Elf! " he looks towards the slight figure resting on the bed that the chairs have been clustered around his eyes glinting dangerously. " It was only what you deserved foolish Man!" comes the mocking retort from a smiling Legolas as he prepares to launch a pillow of his own in the mans direction. For the next few minutes all discussion of recent events is swept aside as the rooms four occupants indulge in one of their favourite pastimes and none of them hear the door open above the cacophony of laughter and childlike squeals accompanying the resultant pillow fight or notice when Lord Elrond enters the room. It is only when he finally raises his voice and shouts for silence over the din that the four younger beings suddenly take note of his presence and fall silent. Feathers fall silently through the air as pillows are placed back down on the bed slowly and hands smooth down rumpled hair and clothing in attempts to reinstate order from the chaos which has so recently occurred. " I can see you are feeling much better", the healer sighs in resignation as he crosses the room towards the elven archer " but please don't let these childish antics tire you too much pen neth, you are not yet fully recovered". Legolas grimaces at the term used, he hates to be reminded of his youth compared to the other three elves present although he has to admit that the brothers always manage bring out their inner child when they are together excepting those times when they happen to be fighting for their very lives. " I am sorry Hir nin, my lord," he places his hand over his heart and lowers his eyes " I should not have let them lead me astray". His blue eyes sparkle as he glances around at the brothers before solemnly meeting the lords gaze once more. Elrond tries to hide a smile behind a slender hand raised to cover a false cough but is not quick enough to fool the blonde elf who raises dark eyebrows in salute. " Yes, well. I need to check your dressings Legolas so I suggest my sons put this room back to rights quickly to enable me to do so in peace and quiet." His face assumes a stern mask as he glares at each of the brothers in turn. " I will return in ten minutes". The elder leaves the room with a dignified walk and manages to close the door behind him before breaking down into unrestrained mirth in the corridor outside. How good it was to see the four friends back to their normal high spirits, he sent thanks to the Valar for looking over them all again. For a while even he had thought that this time would be the end for the young archer and he had dreaded what the consequences would then be for his youngest. The two were so closely bound in spirit that he feared he might lose both of them which would have not only had a devastating effect on their two families but would also have been disastrous for the future of middle earth.

Legolas leans his slender frame back against the remaining pillow behind him on the bed, smiling as he watches his friends move swiftly around the room picking up pillows, cushions and feathers in an attempt to restore order prior to their fathers return. Having been on the receiving end of many of the lords stern lectures upon the behaviour befitting their ages in the past the foursome have no wish to provoke another. " I cannot believe that my memories do not return" he sighs. It worries him greatly that he has no recollection of the events of the fateful evening between bending to fill his water container at the stream and waking to find himself in severe pain, surrounded by worried faces and lying, not under the stars, but in a soft warm bed two days ago. " They should have done by now surely, but the more I try to reach for them the further they seem to retreat from my grasp". His blue eyes flash a questioning glance towards the twins. " We have told you before, this is perfectly natural mellon nin", replies Elladan with a reassuring smile. " You are still healing from the recent trauma to your body, it was very severe Legolas, we almost lost you", there is a slight hitch in his voice with this last statement. " Do not keep worrying at it like a warg with a bone" breaks in Elrohir trying to lighten the dark clouds he can see beginning to form within the sapphire orbs again. " It may come to mind easier if you try less". " You keep telling me this but it does not help!" The space in his memory torments the elven archer and he pounds on the bed with his fists clenched in frustration as he snaps out the words tightly. " Maybe if I were to return to the clearing it would spark some recognition in me", he suddenly sits up swiftly suppressing a grimace of pain. " Yes, that is what I must do. I must return to the place it happened to clear this mist from my mind."

" You are going nowhere for the present time pen neth", Elronds deep velvet tones brook no argument as he re enters the room and crosses elegantly over to the bed.. " Your body is not yet sufficiently healed for a journey, let alone one that will most certainly lead into danger." " It is not my body that worries me" the archer replies ruefully " but my mind. Really hir nin, I feel fine, a short ride would not discomfort me at all and " a sudden sharp intake of breath stems the flow of words as the healers fingers peel away the dressing from the wounded stomach and palpate the surrounding area. His eyebrows raise in reproof at the icy glare directed at him from the younger elf. " Hmmm, I can tell you are just fine", the sarcasm in his voice brings a subtle blush of colour to the princes cheeks and he turns his head to see the three brothers standing watching the exchange with amused expressions on their faces. A steely warning darts from his blue orbs to one pair of grey and two pairs of dark brown eyes which each challenge back, laughter within their depths. " If you are careful and allow some assistance you may sit out for a while this evening" Elrond smiles as well practiced hands finish renewing the dressings on the slender body before him. He has felt that body tense and tighten under his ministrations and is aware of just how much pain Legolas is hiding with his usual strong willed nature. " Healing will be much swifter if you take care and not push yourself young one. Do not try to force things unnecessarily". With this said he turns to his sons. " I will ask the cooks to bring food up here for all of you and you may help our young friend to sit out to eat with you but the minute he begins to tire I trust that you will ensure he gets back into bed". " Of course ada", three heads nod together in agreement, " you can depend on us" Estel smiles at his adoptive father then his brothers " we will pick him up and carry him if necessary". Legolas scowls at his friend but stays silent in case Lord Elrond should change his mind. He has no wish to be confined to bed any longer and is certain that once up it will only be a short step to about and a plan begins to form in his mind.


	6. Chapter 6

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**Chapter Six**

Peace and darkness cover The Last Homely House like a soft blanket cuddling a small elfling in the night. Legolas stands in front of the door to his room, his elven hearing tuned for the slightest sounds, his senses for the merest movement. It has taken him longer to don his clothing than he expected, the severe injury and prolonged bed rest has taken its toll and he knows he is not functioning at full capacity yet but cannot stand to wait any longer. It has already been two days since the pillow fight but has taken that long to convince the three brothers that he does not need a night nurse any longer thus this is the first night he has been left alone. He waits, highly attuned to his surroundings until he is confident that he is the only being in the house awake then quietly picks up his faithful bow, quiver and knife to position them in their usual comfortable home on his back and crosses the room to the glazed door that leads onto the balcony. With one hand he gently pushes it open just wide enough to allow his slender form to pass through . The gauzy curtains billow into the room at the entrance of the night air, moving around him as if to arrest his departure and before he can pass out of the room a sudden bout of dizziness catches him unawares. Only by reaching out to take hold of the doors frame does he stop himself from stumbling over and getting tangled within the dancing fabric swirling around his unsteady form. Mentally cursing his own body's failings he leans his head against the frame, waiting for the world to stop speeding past his eyes before moving slowly through the doorway and out into the cool night air as the spinning stops. Almost sighing with relief the elf takes a deep breath, inhaling the scents of nature that surround this peaceful place gratefully. His senses reach out to the trees and for a moment he looses himself to their soft, caressing thoughts. Feeling their relief at his recovery and the pleasure they take in his company. It has been too long since he did this. A wood elf needs to spend time outside, to feel the elements, to be one with all nature has to offer and for Legolas this is especially true. He feels more at home perched at the top of a tree than anywhere else on middle earth. Reluctantly he reels in the urge to open his soul and give himself over to the green world that surrounds him, that would lull him to sleep and take him along dream paths with them whilst easing his wounded body and confused mind. He can not afford the time, movement must be swift whilst everyone else sleeps if he is to follow the plan he has prepared, albeit loosely, since the night of the pillow fight.

With lithe grace the prince steps up onto the stone railing that runs around the edge of the balcony and surveys the creeper that covers the wall beneath him. A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he remembers the times that he and the young human adopted by the lord of the house have used this "escape route" in the past for a variety of reasons and he marvels at the fact that Elrond has not had the verdant growth cropped down before now. Sending a silent message of thanks to the Valar he gracefully seats himself atop the railing then swings first one long leg, then the other over the edge and begins to make his way towards the ground below, a slight rustling of leaves the only thing to mark his passing. About half way to the bottom he lets go of his hold on the creeper, pushes off from the wall and twists in mid air to land effortlessly on the soft, springy turf beneath him. A grimace of pain flashes across his face only to instantly disappear as he regains control then unconsciously rubs the arrow wound on his chest which has complained about the unexpected exertion . Another bout of dizziness threatens to lay claim to his equilibrium but he stubbornly refuses to give in, closing his eyes and breathing deeply through the swift attack for a couple of heartbeats only, then, taking a last look up towards the balcony he has just vacated, the elf turns and walks away swiftly into the night.

Moonbeams gently filter through the window of the room adjacent to that so recently left empty, caressing across the face of the young man held deep in dreams by the comfort of the safe and loving surroundings he calls home. Peace is written across his features at last after so many anxious days and nights. His mind and body now finding the much needed healing sleep required in response to the recent traumatic events which have held nerves wound as tight as a bow string. With the welcomed recovery of his closest friend that tension has finally eased and his subconscious has finally been allowed to find rest. Even his dreams are now peaceful, the guilt induced nightmares so recently plaguing his nights being chased away by fonder memories of happier times. He smiles softly and turns over in his sleep, snuggling deeper under the covers like a small animal burrowing into a nest blissfully unaware of the pain and despair that lies ahead waiting to swoop down once more and carry him off on wings of heartache into a cold and bitter night from which he will need all his strength to escape.

As Legolas gradually lengthens his graceful stride he reviews the little he knows about the attack in which he sustained his injuries. He is unsettled by the fact that all he has to go on has been learned second hand from others, however trusted they are. His sense of recall still fails him and this tugs at his very core. Try as he might his memories, usually as vivid as real life, seem to be intent on remaining out of reach, evading every attempt he makes at trying to grasp at and pin them down. He only certainties he has to cling to are that his body was pierced by two arrows leaving the marks to prove it and that the fletching of those same two arrows is as familiar to him as that of his own. He had recognised them as soon as Estel placed them on the table by his bed. "Why Lhosson? The whisper faint and full of anguish. " What have I done to you to merit this?" His heart aches for the answer that his mind is not sure it wants to hear. Guilt nibbles at the edges of his thoughts as he mulls over the reasons he has told no one of his recognizance, not even Estel from whom he can usually keep no secret. He tells himself that it is because he is unsure but knows deep down that this is a lie. The truth he is trying to stifle is that if he can not trust his own memories how can others. Maybe he deserved the assault. How can he be certain that he is not reaping the reward of something he himself has sown. That he may have brought dishonour to his father, his home and his friends by some unremembered action does not sit well with the proud elf and he would not let those whose love and honour he values above all else see him unveiled as a fraud, a being without integrity or repute.

As his mind wanders down these unwelcome paths the blonde archer fails to notice the soft whispers from the trees as they try to alert him to the fact that he is not alone. Senses dulled by the fear in his heart of what he will uncover do not pick up the slight rustling in the treetops or vague, shadowy movements that betray another's presence, signs that only an elf would notice and a very alert elf at that. It is not until his foot tangles with a tree root and he finds himself ungracefully sprawled face down in the grass that he becomes aware of his surroundings. A dwarfish curse spits from tight lips as he rubs a tender knee. " Fine wood elf you are!" he berates himself. " Tis a good job Estel is not here, he would never let me live that down, a wood elf tripping over a tree root!" Smiling at the thought of his friends reaction he regains his feet to continue the journey halted in such an ignominious fashion then stiffens as he finally becomes aware of the message from the trees surrounding him. Faster than thought his bow is taken in hand and an arrow nocked ready for flight. Senses that should have been screaming out to be noticed before now suddenly spring into action and he stands, poised on a knife edge, knowing danger is near but not from whence it will come. Calmness overtakes all else, eyes sharpen and darken and breathing slows whilst readying for the hidden foe to make the first move. He waits.


	7. Chapter 7

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**Chapter Seven**

" Hey sleepyhead, time to rise and greet the day !" The cheerful voice cuts through Estels dreams dragging him to reluctant consciousness. He feels the covers suddenly pulled from the bed and grabs at them in a vain attempt to maintain the drowsy comfort he has no desire to loose. Prising open unwilling, sleep filled eyes he spots a dark haired elf leaning over the bed, grinning widely. Instinctively the human quickly rolls his body over and away from the looming form just in time to miss the stream of water which falls from the upturned cup held in the elfs hand. "Elladan!" he spits out sharply, frowning at the elder of his twin brothers. " That was uncalled for!" Mock anger flashes in steely grey eyes as they stare into defiant brown before the glint of amusement takes over and both human and elf dissolve into laughter. " Aww, did you wet the bed tithen pen, little one ?" Elladan splutters out, causing the laughter to gain momentum before the young man launches himself from the bed, grabs the startled elf around the waist and knocks him to the floor where they end up in a tangled heap, still laughing uproariously. It is in this state that Elrohir comes upon them, entering the room to discover the cause of the sounds of merriment filtering through the half open door and into the corridor beyond. " Ah, the children are playing", a mocking, indulgent smile is quickly wiped from his face as the two combatants share a knowing glance then reach out in unison, grabbing an ankle each to take his feet from under him. " Hey!" the exclamation is followed by a loud expulsion of air as the younger twin finds himself unceremoniously dumped onto the floor amidst the chaos of elf, man and bedding that already exists there. The three beings are almost hysterical with mirth now, unable to move or think, wrapped together in a mass of heaving shoulders and squirming limbs, oblivious to all else around them.

As he passes along the corridor towards the young princes room on his way to check on Legolas' progress Lord Elrond can not help but hear the joyful sounds emanating from the chamber next door. He gently pushes on the door and it swings fully open to reveal a sight that makes his heart swell with love and pleasure. No matter their age his 'children' mean more to him than life itself and to see all three of them enjoying a moment of unrestrained happiness brings tears to his eyes. "I wish you could see this Celebrian, my love," the words are as soft as thoughts " how Estel turns the twins back into elflings again and brings the joy back into their lives that I once feared was lost forever." He has never regretted taking in the young human child to raise him as his own and now could not imagine what life would be like without him. Entering the room he stands silently, fondly watching the tangled heap as it resolves itself into three separate forms again. The younger, more sensitive of the twins is the first to notice his fathers presence and scrambles to his feet, hands smoothing at a rumpled tunic, quickly followed by the other two brothers as awareness of the elder filters through their distracted senses. " It is good to hear your laughter again ionnath nin, my sons," his lips curve upwards in a wry smile and eyes sparkle with hidden mirth. " It has been sorely missed".

I hope we did not disturb you Ada, " Estel grins sheepishly as he looks up, sweeping a hand through tangled brown locks which have fallen to cover twinkling grey eyes. " Not at all," Elrond smiles fondly, " I am only surprised that your young friend has slept through the uproar, I would have thought to find him in here, joining in with your frolics by now." A stray frown crosses his brow with this statement and he notices how the others all immediately look towards the wall separating the two rooms as if to see the blonde archer magically walk through from the other side. " Now you come to mention it, it does seem rather strange he has not shown his face yet", Elladans voice is tinged with an edge of worry. " He has ever been an early riser and has an intense dislike of missing the dawning of a new day". " Maybe he still requires a little more recovery time" Elrohir reasons back. " The wounds he sustained were severe and he is so accomplished at masking his hurts it has been difficult to truly assess his progress."

There follows a muffled 'whump' and three elven heads turn simultaneously to observe the young human sitting upon the floor with his head and one arm caught inside a tunic, the other arm flailing at the fabric which seems intent on holding him prisoner. " What are you doing Estel?" Elrond takes a few steps forward and grasps the tunic tightly then pulls it up to free his adopted sons head, nearly separating two rounded ears in the process. " Really, I haven't had to help you get undressed for quite a few years now hen nin, my child." The twins both dissolve into laughter again at the affronted look on their young brothers face. " It is like having a room full of young elflings!" the lord raises an eyebrow as he surveys the other occupants of the room. " If I can trust you all not to cause further disturbance, I must go and see how Legolas fares." As their father exit's the room the brothers share a mischievous look then turn to follow him. It passes their minds that a good while has passed since they have felt able to pull any pranks on the young prince but now he seems to be recovering well they are of the same mind. Their friend will be easy prey if his senses remain a little dulled from his injuries yet.

And still Legolas waits, he feels his body start to tremble slightly as his injuries protest the unaccustomed effort but pushes the feeling away by the strength of will he has forged over the years. He can be very patient when the need arises but he had a good teacher. A slight shake of the head now accompanies the unwanted memories that come flooding into his mind. A tall, silver haired elf standing behind a nervously excited elfling helping to draw his first real bow, showing him how to stand and sight carefully along the arrow to the target beyond. Encouraging him to keep trying when the arrows flew wide of their mark and not allowing the notorious temper tantrums the little prince was renown for to take the upper hand. A pair of green eyes shining with pride as the elfling grew taller and the targets moved further away in an attempt to force uncharacteristic errors. A sweat slicked muscular torso moving with increased speed and deadly force in an elegant dance with his own, the clash of elven blades ringing over the hushed crowds drawn to the practice grounds by the awe inspiring spectacle of the two well matched beings. Strong hands clasping his own, pulling him towards the comforting embrace of resilient arms when the smell of blood and fear threaten to overwhelm all sense of reason during the newly appointed warriors first battle, calming jagged nerves when retching turned to sobs as the realisation of the first kill hit home hard. All these images flood through the archers mind in the blink of an eye as he stands waiting, hoping against hope that he is wrong about the fletching on those ill fated arrows, but certain in the knowledge that he is not. The overwhelming sense of loss and bone deep sadness that settles over his being like a shroud threaten to break his steely resolve as Legolas hardens his heart to past memories, shutting them out like an iron door prevents entry to a band of marauding orcs. This elf he has known his whole life, has been more than a teacher, a friend and confidante, a father figure, there when his own was too tied up with affairs of state or too distant to reach. The betrayal cuts deep into Legolas' soul and as his wounded mind seeks for answers it cannot find his anxiety heightened senses ring out a warning that someone is very near. Eyes and ears strain to perceive the being he feels present, hands tighten their grip, shoulders square and stance steadys as automatic responses to danger, finely honed over the long years take over. The unparalleled warrior inside the elf rises to the surface as it has been allowed to do so many times before, yet a small sense of self is retained. He will not allow the blood lust to consume him, this is no battle, no orcs or spiders are about to descend upon him with deadly intent. There are questions which need to be answered and for that he must retain clarity of thought. He weighs choices in his mind rapidly determining outcomes and effects and comes to a decision. "LHOSSON!" The name echoes through the trees, rippling outwards on a tide of need, half scream half plea, the bow is lowered although not unnocked. " I know you are there, show yourself. Or have you become so craven you will not look me in the eye before ushering me to Mandos halls?"Legolas' voice is stern and cold, betraying no hint of the inner turmoil lashing through his mind as a gale tossing fallen twigs and leaves around the forest. All sound has ceased, no birdsong fills the air, no skittering of small animals disturbs the undergrowth. All is still and quiet as if the very world itself holds its breath in anticipation of what is to come. The silence is broken by a gentle rustle of leaves, like a trees sigh, then a light thud as a graceful figure leaps from the branches, twists in the air and lands on his feet to stand and face the archer, long ebony handled knife in hand, disgust written on his fair face and despair shining deeply within lost, emerald eyes. " You would call me coward?" the older elf spits out the words through clenched teeth as if they are being wrenched out of his mouth by an unseen force. " You who are so craven as to allow an innocent to die in your place then continue on with your life as if nothing has happened. You who holds no regard for the fate of your own kind, but would put an Adan, a human life above all others, even sacrificing one you romped with as an elfling, to enable your whim for playing at being a human instead of attending to your proper duties as our 'Crown Prince'. Roaming middle earth with that human whilst Mirkwood is allowed to fall deeper and deeper into the dark. Even your own father despairs for your heart and questions your loyalty since you met this man and gave up your patrols for easier pastimes".

Legolas has remained still, suspended in disbelief as the verbal tirade washes over him, unable to act or speak out. Mind numbed by the overt hatred emanating from his previous mentor and friend, heartsore and confused, the pain and tiredness of recent injuries suddenly overwhelm him and without thought he falls to his knees as if in suplication, his body no longer his to control. He feels the older elf move closer and raises sorrowful, saphire eyes to meet those filled with animosity gazing down upon him. "I do not understand." The words come slowly from the young elfs lips " I have done nothing of which I am ashamed. I.. I know not of what you speak." He shakes his head briefly as if to reasert his authority over his strained voice. " I would never allow any life to be forfeit in place of mine". Confusion is written all over the archers face, making him appear lost and vulnerable, all his years fall away and he is again the youngling looking to his mentor for approbation. His mind is trying to think but it appears that although he searches madly through its nooks and crannies he can unearth no clue as to the death of which the elf before him speaks. Panic begins to rise once more within him, is this another part of the lost memories surrounding his recent injuries and near death? Dear Valar, say it is not so, saes, please say he has not….. The thoughts tail off. He dare not walk that route. Wresting control over his mind once more he pushes the panic away, pinning it down in a corner like a butterfly trapped by a pin, this must not be allowed to take flight again or it will consume all reason. " How? … Who?…" questions tumble over themselves in their rush to be heard but he cannot find the word to articulate what he knows he must, to find the answers he is unsure he wants to hear but recognises the need for regardless of what may be proven.

"Erlinniel" one name, spoken with all the love in the world resonates through the air, " My daughter". The green eyes flash with grief and anger as the next words are hissed out through taut lips " You killed my beautiful, innocent, daughter". The ebony handled knife is suddenly brought to life to rest against the pale, smooth skin of the princes neck, bringing forth a thin line of red droplets which stand out sharply in contrast to the fair alabaster . Legolas' eyes widen in surprise and fear as the words penetrate his confused consciousness, echoing around his head and trying to prise the butterfly of panic back to life. " I cannot ….. I cannot…. remember." He feels the butterfly spread its wings as the pin disappears and gives way to the terrors released. "I can not remember!" As the shout rings round the trees he sees the blade rise above his head and waits for it to fall again. " Saes, Please, I can not remember, help me remember!" The air moves around his face as the blade falls rapidly down and his fractured mind finally gives way dropping him like a stone into a deep dark pool of endless night and he knows no more.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

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**Chapter 8**

"Of all the stubborn, pigheaded, wilful, stupid….." the young mans voice hold equal parts anger and fear as it tails off. Unable to articulate his feelings sufficiently he stops pacing across the room, turns and kicks out at the nearest object which happens to be a sturdy high backed chair. He barely feels his foot make contact but the force behind his strike is enough to send it flying over to the other side of the room, narrowly missing the elder of his twin brothers in the process. Estel and his siblings had followed their father into Legolas' room shortly beforehand and were at first amazed to find it empty and bereft of the fair archers presence in the bed. It has not taken long for them to ascertain the disappearance of not only the elven prince but also his beloved bow, quiver and knife leading to the foregone conclusion that now finds Estel pacing the floor and occasionally muttering threats of what he will do to the absent elf under his breath. " Estel. Calm yourself" the cool and calm voice of his father breaks into his troubled thoughts. " Such words are not helping anyone!" The lord turns his steely gaze upon the young man as a particularly coarse dwarfish curse aimed at the young princes intelligence spurts from his unruly mouth. " Diheno anim, forgive me, ada" The young mans flashing eyes meet with those of the elders before being lowered to the floor in mute apology. " It is just that I am worried". " As are we all ion nin" the lord replies, his tone softened by the obvious concern he has witnessed within his adopted sons deep, grey eyes. " Did none of you hear anything in the night?" His gaze passes across each of his sons in turn, one eyebrow raised as if to emphasise the query. Shakes of the head are all he is rewarded with yet he is not really surprised. Elves can be almost noiseless when they wish and the young wood elf so recently in his care is especially clever at hiding his movement from others when he feels the need. " It would appear that he used the balcony for his escape" Elladan has been the first to explore this exit route from the room and stands staring at the stone railing bordering the balcony's edge where a faint scuff mark mars the pale white stone. Three heads peer over the edge as his brothers join him, staring down into the garden below as if wishing for the lithe form of the young archer to appear beneath them. "I should have realised he would do something like this," Estels voice holds an edge as his anger turns inwards." I should not have left him alone" His hands clench tight, clutching at the railings without thought, knuckles whitening, his grip contracts as fury increases within him. " You can not blame yourself for this," he feels a gentle hand placed upon his tense shoulder, " you know as well as we do that once Legolas has made up his mind to do something, naught will stand in his way." Elladans voice is pitched low and gentle in a bid to calm the young mans inner turmoil that does not succeed. " He always does this, he always pushes me away when I would help!" The words are spit out through clenched teeth as the young man twists around, shrugging off the placating hand, his eyes blazing with liquid steel as rage is once again directed back towards the absent being. " Calm yourself Estel," the twin takes a step backwards raising both hands in a gesture of peace. " We need to think calmly to decide upon what must be done." " Elladan is right," breaks in the strong voice of Elrond from the doorway leading back from the balcony to the room beyond " Cool heads are what is needed if we are to aid that reckless young elf." He pauses before uttering the next words, " and aid is what he will need I fear." The young man looks up into his fathers eyes, anger is swiftly replaced in the stormy eyes with a deep apprehension, almost palpable to the lord. " A premonition, ada?" The question is spoken quietly, almost as if it does not want to be heard. " No," the elder replies gently, " just the knowledge that Legolas is still not truly healed of his injuries, combined with the certainty of what always seems to happen when you are together." This last statement is accompanies by a wry smile as he tries to lighten the mood and he is relieved to see an answering smile on his adopted sons lips as he responds " You know I will have to go after him then?" Elrond sighs at the rhetorical question. " Of course, ion nin, there was never any doubt of that in my mind from the moment we discovered he had gone, " his gaze wanders from his youngest son to the two standing protectively at his sides, " but you will not go alone, your brothers will be only to glad to assist you in this I feel". " Of course, ada, " Elladan nods " That goes without saying." " Besides," Elrohir laughs " They will need somebody to keep them out of trouble!" " I'm not so sure you may be the right elves for the job then." The sparkle in the lords eyes lends a humour to his words as he speaks, encouraging a short burst of laughter from the three brothers. " I will have the kitchen prepare food for your journey." He turns to the door with an air of resignation. " It will be best if you leave as soon as possible I feel." The three brothers watch as he exit's the room, worry etched on all of their faces. If their father feels the need for haste then it must be necessary. " I will ready the horses", Elladan quickly follows Elrond from the room and heads to the stables." And I will gather our healing supplies," Elrohir places a hand softly on his young siblings shoulder as he speaks, " We will find him Estel" he the shoulder a gentle squeeze, then turns and also leaves. For a moment the young man stands, locked deep in thoughts of his friend. Almost frozen in place, as if by the power of his mind alone he can call the missing prince to appear before him, then he sighs " What are you going to lead me into this time mellon nin, my friend?" he whispers softly into the emptiness and with one last glance around the deserted room walks through the door and out into the corridor beyond.

_Darkness, all around is darkness. I try to move but can not, fear begins to well up inside me but then I still, recognition dawns, this place is known to me. A sense of calmness settles upon me as I note that I have been here before. I am unsure as to how I come to know this but am certain it is true. I float here in the darkness, feeling its familiar touch, allowing it to envelop me and pull me down, beyond thought, beyond reason, blindly following an almost accustomed route, towards….. Towards what? I should know this. But I can't appear to pin it down. Thoughts tumble around my head, always just out of reach, the harder I try to catch hold of them to put them into order, the further they recede into the whirling maelstrom of my mind. I decide to admit defeat for now. I will just rest here for a while. The darkness soothes me, almost I perceive a faint whisper of sound as if the darkness has a voice, I open my senses to the possibility. I will rest here. Just for a while._


	9. Chapter 9

Thanks to Ilovevolleyball for the review, glad you like it. Here's the next chapter if anyone is still reading. Let me know what you think.

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**Chapter 9**

Three riders slowly wend their way through the woodland around Imladris, following a well used path away from the Last Homely House, the tall, powerful horses almost guiding themselves between the trees as their riders each scan their surroundings intently for any trace of the errant elf whom they seek. The brothers ride in silence, comfortable with each others company, avoiding undue haste in an unspoken agreement to ensure any vital clue is not missed along the way. They know their friend is on foot, as his mount was still in the stables when they left, and this combined with the fact that he is not at full health convinces them that Legolas can not be too far ahead of them despite probably having some hours headstart. At least, this is what they hope. They also hope that their destination is the correct one. On discussion just prior to departing upon their search it had seemed to Estel the most logical place for the blonde archer to head for was the clearing in which he had received his injuries and as the twins agreed with him this is the goal towards which they now head. So far they have discovered no sign that Legolas has passed this way yet, as they are all aware of his ability to disappear into the woodlands as if his very existence melds with that of the landscape surrounding him, the lack of proof of his passage does not yet cause them concern. The fact that they also have no knowledge of exactly when he left the comfort and safety of Imladris and therefore no feel for how much of a headstart this has provided him also stops agitation from rising too quickly in their minds.

As he rides Estels mind begins to wander back to that fateful day. He can still vividly recall the sight of his friend lying in the stream with the two hateful projectiles protruding from his body, can still feel the horror that sight instilled in his mind, the fear in his heart that this was the end for the fair young archer, his best friend and loyal companion. The two arrows. They are what worry him most of all. The two Mirkwood arrows. Given away by the fletching they bore. He had failed to take this in during the initial frenzied rush to ensure that life endured in the slight elven form lying so still before him and it was only after Elladan stopped him from casting the second arrow shaft aside as he removed it from its embedded tip that he had really taken notice of it. " Why would someone from Mirkwood wish to kill Legolas, their beloved crown prince?" This unspoken thought has repeatedly run through his mind over the past few weeks with no hint of an answer to be found. Unwilling to broach the subject too deeply with the young elf in order not to hinder his recovery to full health he has only been able to speculate on all the possibilities his fevered imaginings have been able to conjure up. He wonders if a recognition of the traitorous fletching and an understanding of the reason behind the attack is what has led to the abrupt and solitary departure of his friend and this worries him greatly yet for what reason he is not exactly sure.

Finally taking note of his surroundings once more Estel is surprised to find that they have reached their destination. The clearing is just as it is in his memory only without the heartrending sight of the fallen elf to mar its beauty. Glancing around the three riders dismount in unison and without conscious thought or speech, walk towards the stream within which the body of the archer had lain. Staring down at the very spot he has seen in his nightmares so many times since the attack Estel feels a gentle hand placed upon his shoulder and turns to look into the warm brown eyes of the elder twin. " Sidh, peace, little brother," Elladan smiles gently, "you saved him then and we shall find and ensure his safety once more." " Hannon le" Estels whispered thank you comes from the heart and he turns away, eyes bright with the threat of tears he does not wish to shed. Strength is what is needed, not despair and tears will blur his observation too much now and may mean a vital clue is missed. Taking a deep breath and running a hand over his eyes to wipe them clear he begins to scan the area, hunting for the slightest trace that the blonde archer may have left in his wake. The twins fan out on either side of the human and begin a methodical search, working together as they have done for years beyond count, when tracking friend or foe, in a well practiced choreography to ensure that no point is missed, no stone unturned, in their efforts to seek out even the minutest hint that their friend, or indeed any other being, has been present in the immediate past.

Time looses all meaning as the three beings silently search the area. Estel finds his mind wandering again and again as he contemplates the fate of the young prince and stops with increasing frequency, shaking his head, in an effort to dismiss the various visions of a fair young body lying torn and broken in an assortment of places which keep trying to intrude upon his consciousness. " Aie!", a sudden shout from Elrohir breaks into his morbid thoughts and the young man turns to seek out where his brother stands at the furthest edge of the clearing from his own position, beside the clear stream. "Estel, 'Dan," after beckoning to his brothers the younger twin squats down peering intently at the ground under one of the tall oaks standing sentinel over the point where the stream disappears into the undergrowth and rushes off, gurgling happily underground. Estel finds his feet moving of their own accord and is soon running across to the source of the summons, his older brother converging upon the same spot with even fleeter feet, makes it there a heartbeat ahead. " Blood" the single word escapes from unwilling lips as the three stare down upon the sight of a few deep crimson speckles which mar the bright green foliage beneath the tree. Elrohir stands to face his brothers " blood" he repeats as if unsure of what his eyes tell him. " Aye, it is, not much, but that is blood for sure" Elladan squats to peer down upon the the offending stains, scowling as if he holds them responsible for some foul deed. "It is still fairly fresh too" he speaks slowly whilst reaching out a slender finger to brush at one of the small spatters, " I would say it was spilled no more than six hours ago." He looks up at Estel. " There is not enough, thankfully to suggest Legolas has sustained a grievous wound, if this is indeed from Legolas. Yet more proof is necessary before we can come to any conclusions as to who, where and why. Mayhap we can discover more clues if we examine this area closer." Estels eyes have not wandered from the dark spots besmirching the greenery for the length of his brothers speech. He stands transfixed, as if trying to will the ground to give up its story to his aching heart. The twins share an empathic glance over his head. " Come, little brother" Elladan speaks brusquely to break through the unnatural reverie "let us continue the search, there must be more yet to learn concerning what has happened here." With a deep sigh Estel wrenches his gaze from the ground and transfers his stare to his brothers face. " I know" his voice holds an edge as he tightens his resolve, then, drawing in a long breath, he turns away and begins scanning anew, seeking any further traces, with an increased sense of urgency.

Estel stops suddenly, his heart missing a beat as if to underline what his eyes have just spotted in the long grass a few paces from the bloodstained leaves. " It cannot be" a thin whisper of sound, barely audible to any but an elf makes his brothers look towards him, concern written on identical faces. " No, it cannot be". They watch as he bends with outstretched hand to retrieve something from the ground then slowly straightens, his hand clutching a broken bow, held at arms length as if unwilling to grasp it and acknowledge its existence. This bow they would know anywhere, beautifully crafted and embossed with a pattern of intertwining leaves, they have seen it singing in all its glory on many an occasion, have watched its owner with awe as his arrows pierced any target of his chosing, never missing, faster than thought, elf and weapon in complete harmony. This bow belongs to the finest archer known in all of Arda, the one they seek so desperately, their friend. Legolas. Struck dumb they stand together, staring at the forlorn weapon, its mighty shaft snapped almost in two, held together by the thinnest sliver of wood, the fine string dangling from one tip, never again to sound its music and join with its owner in the wonderous choreography they wove in battle. That Legolas would never freely relinquish this, his most prized, possession tells a tale in itself and the three brothers are filled with dread at the prospect this raises.


	10. Chapter 10

Just want to say thanks for reading so far and big hugs to those of you who have added this story to your favourites. It means a lot to a first time author! Hopefully I will get better as I go on. Thanks also for the reviews so far. I have decided to continue in the same style rather than start a new line for each dialogue,( mainly because I am too lazy to go back and change the other chapters!) but I will bear it in mind for the next story.

ilovevolleyball - thank you, you are so sweet, keep the reviews coming it feeds the muse!

Heres the next one. Please let me know what you think.

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**Chapter 10 **

The trill of a blackbird perched high over head brings the trio at the edge of the clearing back to reality and breaks the air of despondency that has settled over them like a thick woollen blanket in the summer heat. " He has been taken" Estel feels the need to articulate the obvious truth as if this will help them in some way reassure themselves that their friend is alive yet, just not present. " But by whom?" Elrohir questions, "And why?" Elladans face mirrors that of his twin, puzzlement and outrage blaze from two pairs of deep brown eyes, identical frowns crease across matching foreheads. " Better yet, where have they taken him to?" Estel gazes intently from one brother to the other. " There must be some sign here for us to find, some track we can follow," his voice betrays his innermost emotions, the sense of urgency rising with his next words " there has to be." He begins to scan the area around where they stand with increasing agitation his whole body shaking with pent up feelings of anger and fear, anger directed both within and without, fear overriding it in waves, threatening to pull him under and drown him in a maelstrom of tempestuous feelings. " Estel! Estel!" he finally stands still and turns towards his brothers unaware of which one has called his name. " We must take care not to spoil any traces," Elrohir has taken a step towards the young man, concern written all over his features, "we cannot…" " Damn care, and damn restraint!, we need to act, I need to act, not stand here being careful." This last word he spits out through clenched teeth then falls to his knees as a sob is wrenched from his body. " This….is….all….my….fault…" his words come in short gasps as tears stream from his storm filled eyes to run unheeded down high cheekbones and drip from his, usually stubborn chin to soak into the fabric of the cloak wrapped around his juddering shoulders. " Oh, Estel, pen neth" Elladan is the first to reach him " this is not your fault, how could it possibly be your fault?" gently massaging the young mans shoulder with his long, elegant fingers he looks up at his twin with pain in his eyes. " There is no blame here apart from to whoever has caused hurt to Legolas, you could have done no more to help him than you already have," with these soft words the youngest twin begins to massage the other shoulder, unconsciously copying his brothers movement exactly. " We will find him, I promise, we will find him and when we find the perpetrator of these foul deeds we will show them no mercy." A fire glows deep in the usually gentle brown eyes as this statement is uttered, a brief blaze of deep hatred flares up, then is quenched as his human brother swiftly meets his eyes, he dare not let hatred consume his thoughts again. It is too easy a path to follow as he knows all too well. The twins have walked this path before, for years after the capture of their mother hatred was all they lived for. Hatred and revenge and although conquered and many years in the past, it is still too near to the surface, waiting to be called and set free once more. He takes a deep breath and smiles down into the grey eyes of his adopted brother, willing away his dark thoughts with a conscious effort to soothe the ache he knows dwells in the constant heart that beats so steadfastly in the humans chest. The smile that Estel returns is designed to acknowledge and calm his brothers need. " We will" simply uttered, a shared response between the three. " Forgive me, I just cannot bear to think of what may befall him in the hands of one who so obviously wanted him dead, why the change of heart? This is what concerns me most." The young man looks troubled as he ponders the fact before them. If someone wanted the archer dead they should have found his body with the broken bow. He can not fathom why this is not so, why there has been a change of mind, indeed if there has been a change of mind and what this may mean to the welfare of the fair prince of Mirkwood. Sharing a sorrowful look with his brothers the young man stands and squares his shoulders as if willing his bodys strength to overule his heart and emotional turmoil. His face becomes a blank mask, no feeling or sentiment shows on his handsome features, his grey eyes become liquid pools that reflect only what they see on the surface and not what is written beneath their turbulent depths. " Come," a single word, softly spoken yet bearing a sense of authority greater than his years. " Let us continue the search, there is much yet we need to learn and time is slipping away from us as we tarry." True to his word he quickly resumes the search, swiftly yet efficiently sweeping the immediate area with his eyes. "An elf lay here" Estel squats and gently runs one hand over the slight depression shown by the bruised grass, " was dragged" his eyes lift to spy out the oh so slight traces his brothers have taught him to interpret, then moving, ever so carefully on, covers the ground thoroughly as the twins follow his lead.

_Wrong, something feels wrong but I am unsure as to what exactly it is that makes me so sure of this. I float, here in the darkness, pondering the change, attempting to decipher the difference in this, the place of refuge I have come to accept as my panacea against the hurts of the world. I cast my mind about, seeking familiarity and then it comes to me. The variance. Where usually there is silence now exists sound. Faint though it may be, it none the less lingers at the edge of perception as if waiting to be noticed and brought to life. I do not like this. This break in the accustomed. It grates on my nerves and begins to bore into my awareness relentlessly, growing in intensity, drumming itself into my being. I can no longer ignore its relentless persuit as much as I wish it possible to do so. Then. Just as I begin to feel overwhelmed by the invading sound another new and strange sensation assaults my consciousness. Suddenly this new phenomenon overwhelms everything else and it takes a moment for my fumbling mind to connect it with a name. Pain. Yes, that is it. It is called pain, a sensation I recall only too well now I come to think of it. Pain. I have never felt pain here before. I endeavor to conjure up the peace and serenity I have previously found here but grow increasingly more frustrated as it refuses to materialise. I try to call out, to beg this new sensation, this pain, to end, all I want is to be left in peace, here in my sweet, dark cocoon but my throat constricts. I can utter no sound, nor move an inch as both noise and pain continue to swell inside me, overwhelming all else, driving me to the very edge of reason until I can take no more. I finally accept the inevitable, embrace the double assault on my senses, gain control of my reluctant body and, rushing upwards from the comforting black depths race towards the source of my torment. A new sensation rises within me. Anger. I feed it, encourage it to grow whilst I speed along unseen currents, then mind and body abruptly reconnect, daylight assaults my retinas as my eyes spring open to finally reveal the author of my distress._


	11. Chapter 11

****Just want to say thanks to the anonymous person who left the fantastic review for chapter 10. I'm so glad that you got the emotion I was trying to portray, especially in that scene with the twins. It does help when I know someone is enjoying my little effort.

If anyone else wants to join in please feel free. Help feed the muse!

Thanks too to everyone reading. I better get on with it then. I hope this one works for you.

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**Chapter 11**

" Coward…. wake…..up….you…filthy….coward." Legolas' head is whipped from side to side by each blow to his, already crimson, cheeks that accompanies the frenzied, staccato words spat out by the elf towering over him. "You….will…not…hide….from….what…..you….have….done" . Lhossons rage is increasing, the slaps gaining in strength as the young elf stays limp and unresisting before him.

When Legolas had first collapsed allowing his erstwhile mentors blade to miss its mark in his fair neck by the narrowest of margins, instead just clipping the tip of one finely pointed ear bringing forth a small spurt of crimson, the Mirkwood warrior had been incensed and had quickly spun the blade in well practiced fingers before turning its arc down towards the heart of the archer who was then lying insensate at his feet. His intention was simple, to kill. Nothing less would satisfy the ache in his heart, the sense of loss, the need for retribution which overwhelmed all else. But, at the last moment he had hesitated, turned the long knife aside and plunged it into the ground beside the crumpled form, fury ensuring it was buried deep, up to its ivory hilt, in the packed earth. This would not do. This was not the way. Scorn filled his deep green eyes as he stared down at the one he had once held as dear to his heart as a son and his lips tightened to a thin grimacing line. " No!" One, deep, cold word squeezed out from between Lhossons tightly compressed lips. " You will not hide from this, my prince" the last two words were uttered with such contempt as to render them into an insult. " I will have you look into my eyes to comprehend and realise your fate". He landed a frustrated kick into the archers ribs and withdrawing his knife from the ground, wiped it across the unconscious elfs tunic, smearing a brown line across the slender chest, before replacing it in its sheath at his belt. Noticing, as if for the first time, the bow that had fallen from a limp hand as the young elf fell, Lhosson bent to retrieve it from the grass, holding the well beloved artefact tightly he stared intently at its elegant design feeling the anger rise within him again, twisting his features into a grimace of disgust, this emblem of status defined the young prince, marked his place in the world, and the need to hurt, to negate that very existence became overwhelming. Grasping the bow in both hands he brought it down over his raised knee and welcomed the loud satisfying crack of sound given off as the shaft snapped almost in two. Casting it away as far as he could the warrior sighed, his need remained unquenched although the anger was slightly lessened by the act of destruction and he realised what he now needed to do.

With a grim expression he bent and took hold of Legolas' feet and dragged him a short way over the uneven ground towards a tall tree with thick lower limbs that reached down to the grass, brushing it in the breeze like fingers softly running through a thick carpet. Hoisting the limp form over his shoulder with one hand he then lithely leapt into the branches, disregarding the arrows that fell like rain from the upended archers quiver, and began to climb, higher and higher, the slight weight of the body he carried unhindering him as he made his way first to the top of that tree then across to the next, and the next. Using them, as only a wood elf can, to create an unseen path, heading towards a secluded location he remembered from past travels in the area. Eventually reaching his goal the warrior gradually descended from the final tree and felt again the firm earth under his feet. He dropped Legolas from his shoulder to land in a sprawled heap of tangled limbs in the undergrowth and stood surveying the small, isolated, clearing they had just entered in the centre of which was the half rotted stump of an old tree, long ago struck by lightening and fallen with the splintering of tortured wood. Dragging the unfortunates body over to this once great structure he placed the archers back against the remains of the trunk and secured his wrists behind it using his own spare bow string. Legolas was now seated as if lifeless, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his head falling forward onto his chest, blonde hair cascading into his lap like a shimmering curtain of gold, no signs of perception or awareness of his plight visible.

Lhosson gazes down at the fallen archer secured before him. The exertion of the passage through the tree tops has cleared the red mist of rage from his mind and helped focus his thoughts. He feels calm now. Anger still lies, heavy in his chest, like a lead weight pushing against his already grief stricken heart but he knows he has it under control once more. He kneels down in front of the younger elf and reaches through the blonde curtain to grasp the slender neck hidden behind it. Gripping tightly just under the chin he pushes it forcefully back against the rough bark raising the pale face and at the same time watching the closed eyes for any sign of movement. When the ivory skinned face remains smooth and apparently unaware the elder elf raises his free hand and brings it across to connect sharply against one pale cheek with a sharp retort, making the princes head sharply swing over to the left, then, without pause he reverses the action with a backhanded slap to the other cheek. " Coward. Coward!" Continuing this action he begins to chant, increasing the speed and harshness of the blows with each repetition, the words reinforcing the harsh slap of flesh against flesh. Over and over again until the initial sting in his palm becomes a fierce burn but still he does not stop. "Coward. Wake. Up. You. Filthy. Coward". He takes a second to breathe then resumes the onslaught. "You. Will. Not. Hide. From. What. You. Have. Done."

Saphire eyes suddenly spring open wide as awareness rushes into Legolas' tired and battered body. His mouth opens in an attempt to cry out against the unwanted assault but his constricted throat will allow no sound to escape, indeed he finds that he is only just able to inhale against the painful pressure being applied around his neck. For a few short seconds he is disorientated, confused by the double incursion upon his senses, then realisation hits him and he tries to move his already burning face away from the hand that he senses moving towards it but cannot. Pain flares sharply again and he struggles against the vice like grip holding him remorselessly still. He gazes over into the cold, unfeeling, emerald eyes of his attacker, the hatred within which makes him shudder under its intensity. Lhossons hand makes one final, jolting connection then drops and the two beings stare intently at each other, questioning cerullean orbs into icy green flint, as if each trying to read their respective souls, for what feels like an eternity before Legolas tries to speak and the spell is broken. "Lhos…" the sound is croaked out as barely a whisper. He tries again " Lhosson?" Stronger this time but his voice still holds a rasping edge both through pain and the pressure that has been exerted upon his throat. " So, The Prince awakes at last." The contemptuous use of his honorific is not lost on Legolas as the elder elfs voice cuts across his own vocal attempts. " I was beginning to think you did not wish to see me, My Lord" with this, Lhosson releases his hold on the archers neck, rises smoothly to his feet and executes a mocking bow.

"What do you want of me?" Wearily the slight figure tied to the tree raises his head carefully once more, his eyes fluttering closed briefly as the world suddenly tilts and whirls around, dizzyness threatens to overwhelm him but he will not allow it, forcing his saphire orbs to re open and gaze sadly upwards into his captors face, not wanting to show this momentary weakness. " What do you want of me?" A sense of resignation is apparent in the repeated question. Sore of heart, body and mind Legolas feels a strong urge to surrender his will under the strength of animosity emanating from the very essence of the elf standing over him. He remains unsure over what exactly it is that he has done to deserve such vilification but his soul is such that he can not conceive that another would feel this way without just cause, therefore he must accept that, although aware that he could never knowingly take an innocent life there could be a possibility that through negligence or loss of concentration on his part such a one may have fallen. He surmises that because his traitorous mind does not immediately bring any memory of such a deed to the fore this does not preclude it from being true. He is a perfectionist at heart, driving himself harder than any under his command and has oft berated himself in the past for errors he has perceived to be great yet have been ignored, or even unnoticed by others, a trait he has frequently been upbraided for by his father and friends yet one he is unable to break.

"What do I want of you?" Unalloyed fury lends itself to the staccato delivery of the warriors words as he stares unflinchingly down upon the worn young elf. "I want you to suffer, I want you to know pain I want you to …" he breaks off suddenly, spittle forming at the corners of the once pleasant mouth now twisted with loathing, " I thought I wanted you to die," he squats down face to face with the archer, his voice becomes icy cold and measured as he continues " but now I realise that would be too easy". He slowly unsheathes the long knife worn at his belt and sweeps it elegantly around in an arc to rest with its tip lightly pricking the hollow of the smooth throat in front of him. "No, I want you to wish for death with every fibre of your being before finally giving in and begging to be allowed to embrace its final release."  
The venom contained within these words sends a chill shiver down the princes spine and as he tries to assimilate his thoughts he feels a sharp burst of fire as the knife is drawn across his neck to leave a narrow stripe from which small globules of blood gently ooze and settle, like a string of scarlet beads resting upon the pale flesh.


	12. Chapter 12

Thanks to never123 for following this story and to everyone else still reading ( if indeed anyone is! ).

ILovevolleyball - thanks again for your lovely review. I'm glad you are still enjoying my ramblings. You got the contrast I was hoping for with the passages on hatred and revenge too. Phew! I was hoping it would come out that way. :) Hope you enjoy this next chapter.

Here goes with the next chapter. Feedback is always welcome.

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**Chapter 12 **

A short hiss of pain escapes through Elladans clenched teeth as he feels the sharp bite of steel against his left forearm but there is no time to check the wound and he pushes it to the back of his mind as his body moves automatically, right arm raising his legendary sword to parry the blow aimed towards his head, then swinging low to swipe the heavy blade across the torso of the orc before him, unfazed by the liquid like flow of innards released from the corrupt body as it falls, clawed hands clutching its torn belly in a vain attempt to force the unruly guts back from whence they have spilled. There is no time to think before the next foes are before him and the deadly dance continues with two more of the foul creatures being dispatched mercilessly, both decapitated in a move faster than the eye can see, a flick from left to right and back again, sword glinting as it rushes towards its fatal goals.

The three brothers fight back to back, each protecting the other, in a formidable triangle of fluid choreography, a most macabre beauty to behold as they slash, parry and twirl in concert. A lethal harmony of death, honed over the centuries by the twins need for revenge, to bring death to pay for those harms long past but never forgotten. Their mirrored synchronicity, enhanced by time and their unique mental link, has forged a style of combat very much their own, a style unparalleled amongst the eldar and feared by all those in thrall to the darkness. It has been modified over the last few years to include their adopted brother. Taught the intricacies of their battle dance from an early age and eager to learn he has been an adept pupil, adapting their moves to suit his human limits then pushing to extend those limits, his mastery of the sword has excelled all expectations. Combining elven and human forms of combat he strengthens the already seemingly unbeatable team with an air of maturity surpassing his actual years, helping to moderate the rage within his elder siblings as the red mist rises to ensure that they do not succumb to recklessness in pursuit of death.

Vituperous curses and snarls fill the air as the orcs frenzied attack continues. The clash of steel upon steel rings out through the trees like a clarion call and the screeches of the wounded and dying add to the cacophony of sound yet through it all the three at the centre of the battle fight in chilling silence, the calm eye of the storm that is raging around them. Faces grim and set they deal out death without compunction, unheeding to all except the melee in which they are embroiled, the next strike, the next thrust until suddenly there is no enemy left before them alive and they stand, almost in disbelief, adrenaline still surging through their veins, slowly realising that it is all over. The mist clears from their minds and the twins collapse into each others arms, needing to feel the beating of hearts that tell the tale of another fight survived, another battle won with life intact. Estel stands with one hand on each of his brothers shoulders sharing their relief and silent, heartfelt prayers are sent to the valar with thanks for life sustained before they let go of one another, sharing a knowing smile as they wait for the pain that will surely come begging for notice from injuries masked in the fury of combat but allowed to surface as their heated blood cools.

The band of orcs had come from nowhere. Senses fixed upon the search for the lost prince they had missed the signs of encroaching danger until it was upon them and the first orcs thrown dagger embedded itself in the trunk of a tree, a hairs breath away from Estels nose. Pandemonium had then erupted and pure instinct kicked in as the foul creatures had pressed them from all sides, effectively corralling them, without realising that this would make the trio more desperate and therefore more dangerous and the scene played out to its inevitable conclusion.

Looking around Estel can count at least twenty of the fell creatures laying strewn as they have fallen, unwholesome ichor leaking from their bodies to settle on the ground, staining the once vibrant green grass black. A bitter tang lies on the air which makes the bile rise in his throat and he swallows convulsively to keep from heaving, a reaction to the violence that he has never been able to conquer.  
His body begins to complain bitterly about the recent clash as various small gashes and nicks clamour for his attention yet he pays them no heed, turning instead to assess his brothers needs. One glance is enough to speed his weary feet back over to where they stand, Elladan holding Elrohirs left arm and watching, as if transfixed, a red stream trickle and drip its way down to the ground waiting beneath their feet, "'Roh! Let me see" Estel gently takes the arm to scan the wound noticing the white of bone visible between the jagged, red edges of the deep cut. "My pack, 'Dan! Bring me my pack" he nudges his older brother urgently to bring him back to his senses and watches as Elladan stumbles over to where their belongings had been abandoned when the fighting began. Then, as the warriors knees begin to buckle he catches him under the arms and lowers him to the ground, "Saes, peace, 'Roh, just rest for a while and I will treat this" softly murmuring these words he places one hand firmly over the incision to stem the bleeding causing the injured elf to briefly cry out in pain. " I will need to stitch this together gwador nin, my brother, the cut is too deep to heal on its own." He begins to rummage, one handedly, in the pack that the older elf has dropped in front of him, pulling out bandages, pads, needles, thread and herbs. He smiles as a pan of water materializes beside him and looks up to see the pale face of his oldest brother, eyes bright with concern and pain, hating the fact that his twin suffers, wishing it had been indeed his flesh that the blade had slashed when he felt its fiery kiss. It has always been this way, the twins bond being so strong that each feels what the other experiences, physically and mentally, their blessing and also their curse.

"Chew on this bark, it will help ease the pain," Estel pops the small woody lump into his brothers mouth as he opens it to protest and raising, his eyebrow in an expression learned from the lord of Imladris that brooks no refusal he drops a small twisted bag of herbs into the pan of water to steep. After washing the wound thoroughly with the herb instilled water, the young man closes the wounds raw edges with neat stitches, covers them with a poultice of healing herbs to encourage healing and wraps all in a pristine bandage. " It does not look poisoned," he glances into the warriors pain filled eyes " and the edges are fairly even, hopefully it should heal well." He smiles and starts to rise to his feet to dispose of the used water. " Hannon Le, thank you, Estel" Elrohir reaches out to grasp his hand " it does feel somewhat better now." He struggles to a sitting position and turns his head to watch his twin trying to light a fire feeling the knot of tension and anger within Elladans chest that always accompanies one of his injuries, wishing he could take it away yet knowing if their roles were reversed he would be feeling the same. "You never were as good at setting a fire as me brother," the lighthearted words are designed to distract and he smiles inwardly as his sibling takes the bait. " Hah! Who was the one that managed to get a fire going in the rain a few months ago when we were hunting those wargs?" Elladans eyes flash with the fire he is trying to generate in the sticks before him " As I recall it, you had been trying for hours before eventually giving in and I managed it in a few minutes." The twins lock understanding gazes before Elladan smiles and returns to his task, eventually calling forth a small flame which he feeds carefully until he has a small fire merrily burning upon which to warm water for the blend of tea his father always uses to promote healing and which they carry habitually on any trip away from home.  
" What do we do now 'Dan?" the youngest elfs whispered voice contains more than the pain from his wound, "any traces of Legolas will have been wiped out by that foul hoard." " I know brother," The elder twin replies sadly " I don't know what we can do now, yet we can't give up, we must keep searching no matter how long it takes." They both turn to stare into the flames as if trying to scry out the whereabouts of their absent friend and are lost deep in thought when Estel rejoins them.


	13. Chapter 13

Sorry its a week late but I had a real struggle to write this chapter. I just couldnt get the right feelings into it somehow and I know its short but I finally think I got it to convey what I want. I hope you all think it works. Don't be afraid to let me know!

Many thanks for the reviews for the last chapter and for the new followers, it really makes me feel its worth carrying on and hopefully the paragraph spacing is right this time!

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**Chapter 13.**

Darkness has enveloped the small clearing, its inky blackness almost thick and cloying, covering the slight figure that rests uneasily against the shattered remains of the old tree at its centre. The scent of blood lies heavily upon the air, the silence eerily foreboding, as if the world holds its breath against the violence it has witnessed and the horrors yet to come. The slender being appears to be alone, abandoned to whatever fate has in store next, yet, this is not so, for high above in the canopy another rests, hidden from all sight, deep in contemplation, planning the next move in his deadly game. Heart filled with grief and despair, nourishing his hatred and feeding the need for revenge he embraces the darkness without and within.

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A slight breeze gently whispers around the bound elf, playing with long golden strands of hair, lifting them softly then letting them fall, brushing across the bare skin of his shapely torso like a lovers gentle caress. A low moan escapes from parched lips as consciousness slowly returns and pain begins to force its way back into being with a vengeance.

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Legolas has never hurt so much before, in all the many battles he has fought with orcs, spiders and other creatures of the dark, in all the times he has been injured or come close to reaching Mandos Halls, he has never felt such agony. This pain transcends the physical plane, it invades his very fea and threatens to overwhelm him completely and he knows it is the sense of betrayal that intensifies it so. He would not have believed the change in his old friend if he had not witnessed it first hand, had not been at the receiving end of so much malice. He looks down, he can barely make out his own form in this gloom and the usual healthy elven light that surrounds him has been reduced to a pale, feeble glow, barely enough to outline his shape, but he can feel the tickle of blood as it slowly exudes from the myriad of cuts criss crossing his body. Each one has been carefully, almost lovingly placed with a cool, calm precision belying the underlying passions of the elf weilding the knife. The pain intensifying with each slowly drawn incision as Llhosson's hand had languidly moved from one part of his tortured body to the next.

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The initial, unexpected slash across his throat had been only a sharp taster of what had been to come as his mentor had first cut away the clothing covering his torso with fast impatient strokes and then used the exposed, creamy flesh as a canvas on which to painstakingly paint garish crimson lines with his elegant mithril blade. Both elves watched its gory progress transfixed, as if hypnotised, by the smooth deft movements, green eyes glittering with a feral enjoyment at the swell of blood from each new cut, blue orbs filled with heartrending anguish and shimmering tears that refused not to fall. Yet through the haze of pain and grief the prince refused to utter a sound. His strong will determined not to give voice to his suffering thus allowing his tormentor to feed off his distress. It was, however, a flawed plan as the lack of response on the young archers part only inflamed the elder and the cuts became deeper, longer and more aggressive with each sweep of the knife until only the loss of consciousness in his captive again stayed his hand. When he noticed that awareness had left the pain filled body once more Llhosson had cursed loudly and kicked out at the limp form, a twisted smile playing around his mouth as he heard the satisfying crunch of broken bone when his foot again connected with the lower ribs on the youngsters left side. Panting slightly from the pent up emotions spent during the proceedings thus far he then stood for a few moments, surveying his handiwork, as an artist might consider their portrait between sittings, then slowly sauntered to the trees and began to climb without a backward glance.

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Determinedly ignoring the pain the young archer tries to focus on his surroundings as awareness returns and he begins to realise that he is alone in the clearing. He gently starts to flex his forearm muscles in an effort to test the bonds upon his aching wrists and it is with some satisfaction that he feels them give a little as the string stretches. With a few minutes undisturbed time he knows he will be able to free himself and can not help a small smile of satisfaction cross his lips, until a mental review of the wounds he has sustained tells him that should he manage to release himself from the bonds his body will not be able to carry him far in its current state thus leaving him vulnerable to further attack from either thesame source, or something even worse and he has a vague memory of the muffled sounds of battle being carried to his ever alert ears on the wind during the latter part of his torment. He wonders if Llhosson had also heeded the sound and if so whether it is, in fact, an integral part of his planned torture, to raise his hopes with escape only to have them crushed once more upon recapture, a train of events designed to break not only his body, but more importantly his will and leave him utterly at the elders mercy. A frustrated sigh slips from his dejected mouth and he stills his movements again to allow his thoughts to coalesce. A mental review reveals that he has no weapons save a small hunting dagger he habitually carries hidden in one shoe and has no recollection of what has happened to his bow or long knife. A pang of regret accompanies this realisation as the knife was a gift from his Ada on his coming of age and has been one of his most prized possessions ever since. From the way his body feels he knows there is at least one broken rib, most likely more and that the pain and blood loss from the multitude of lacerations decorating his torso will only increase with exertion is an inescapable fact. There is also the matter of not knowing where on Arda he is, therefore how long or indeed which path it will take to find safe refuge, but the one thing he is sure of now is that he does not deserve this, whatever he may have done, even had it been with malicious intent, this cruel treatment is unjust and he will find a way to escape or die trying.


	14. Chapter 14

Another short one I'm afraid, I will try to move it on after this.

Thanks to those of you still reading and to the two new followers, hope it doesn't disappoint.

Ilovevolleyball- I could tell you... but wheres the fun in that! Glad you're still enjoying it, I love hearing from you.

Guest - thanks for the lovely review. * Blushes*

Keep on with the reviews it helps so much to know what you all think.

Ok, lets get on with it then.

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**C****hapter 14**

During the time it has taken for Legolas to determine his escape the silent watcher in the canopy above has been brooding over his next move. As the young elfs resolve has strengthened so has the elders. The silence maintained by his captive during the past few hours has done nothing to appease the feelings of anger and grief, in fact it has encouraged him to nurture them, turning the powerful emotions into such a force of hatred that he feels as if his whole body thrums with the tension of keeping it pent up inside. Unaware that he is fast loosing himself within these dire emotions he encourages the feelings, reliving each slice through pristine flesh, each flowering blossom of blood, recalling words spoken over and over again throughout. " For Erlinniel,. Will you pay for her death with yours?" irrevocably breaking their past ties of friendship and honour to overlay them with hatred and despair. And all the while the young archer has refused to give him what his heart craved, uttering not a sound, showing only a slight taughtening of his full, pale lips with each fresh draw of the shining blade.

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Lhosson gazes down into the clearing, barely distinguishing the slight form slumped where he has left him. Unable to make out the slight movement Legolas makes flexing his muscles and tensing against his bonds he nevertheless is certain that this is what will be taking place. He knows this elf so well, can almost hear the train of thought running through the archers mind. He is certain that the pride inherited from his father and the need for freedom will overrule all else and escape will be the only outcome Lhosson is certain the prince will contemplate. The only question left to ponder is how far he should let it go before stepping in to bring hope crashing down and with it, hopefully, the archers self esteem. His need to cow Legolas completely is almost physical now and in his mind he can almost taste the fear that will emanate from the archer as he breaks him completely before finally sending him to join his daughter in Mandos to meet her vengeance.

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He decides to wait and see what transpires, when the prince should escape his bonds he will be unsteady and unable to move fast or far so it will be no hardship to follow in his wake and bide his time. A cruel smile plays around the corners of his lips, his once bright fea now darkened by emotions he can no longer control. He will enjoy bringing this princeling down, watching as he begs in the dirt at his feet but to no avail, the die is now cast, Legolas will die and die painfully with the final realisation that there was never any hope, not even a fools hope.

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The soft grey of approaching dawn brings Lhosson out of his black reverie and his eyes again seek out the slender figure below him noticing that the young elf has, at last, managed to free himself from the bow string restraint and is now kneeling, rubbing at chaffed wrists, whilst surveying the clearing about him, obviously trying to ascertain the whereabouts of his captor. With the innate skill of the wood elves the elder remains motionless and perfectly hidden within the cover of the tree he has chosen for a perch, not even the slightest rustle of a leaf to betray his presence, blending in so perfectly that should Legolas chance to peer directly towards him the branches would appear empty. At last the young archer seems satisfied with his inspection and gently begins to pull himself to his feet, hanging on to the lifeless tree stump to aid in achieving and upright position. Lhossons eyes gleam as he notes the lack of fluidity and unsteadiness in the princes movements, realising that he has inflicted more damage than he first thought due to the stoic nature of the young being. " Stubborn young fool, you can not escape your doom" the softly spoken words leave his mouth like a sigh on the wind before he realises he has vocalised his thoughts and for a moment feels his pulse begin to race amid worries they will carry down to the elf below and betray his existence yet as he watches he sees no indication that this is so and gradually the hammering of his heart reduces until it is quiescent once more within his chest.

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Legolas feels his legs tremble beneath him as he clutches at the rough bark to haul himself erect. The blood loss and pain have depleted him more than he first thought and he feels himself sway lightly, as if in a boat travelling down the forest river to Laketown. Shaking his head briefly to try to clear the sensation only makes matters worse and the world suddenly dips as if pulled from under him forcing him to stumble then crash back down onto the blood soaked ground once more. Lying still for a few moments he waits to regain his equilibrium before attempting to rise once more. Senses dulled by his depleted state he fails to hear the softly spoken words uttered above his head and with concentration focused entirely upon deflecting the pain and reaching his goal the usual rapport with the trees he holds is dulled such that he feels totally and utterly alone.

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Finally managing to raise himself to his feet once more the archer gradually releases the vice like grip of fingers unwilling to let go of comforting wood and stands, unaided, with the barest of tremors passing through his beleaguered body. Mindful of the fact that movement is necessary but reluctant to try on legs that feel like jelly he gathers his not inconsequential resolve and takes one, small, hesitant step, then another, inching away from the comforting stump and out into the empty clearing. He has planned no direction of travel, figuring that as he has no idea where he is, there is no point in trying to work out where to get to therefore all he can do is attempt to put as much space between himself and his captor as possible, hoping to luck and the Valar for guidance. He tries to remember the direction that the faint sounds of battle drifted from, what seems an eternity ago but it is lost in the pain filled recesses of his mind and anyway can not decide if to head towards it would mean encountering friend or foe so purely concentrates on putting one foot in front of the other and in this way slowly reaches the edge of the clearing and enters the woods beyond.

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Lhoson watches unheeded as the young archer gradually works his way over to the trees on the furthest side of the clearing from where he waits, eagerly spotting the tell tale signs of fatigue and depletion exhibited by the slender form. He lingers until the figure exits into the wood before moving stealthily from tree to tree orbiting the clearing until standing high above the place where the prince has vanished into the undergrowth, noting with satisfaction that his quarry remains unsteady enough to stay earth bound. He waits for a few heartbeats then moves carefully on, tracing in the canopy the path taken below. This will be fun. It is long since he had a chance to hunt and he anticipates the capture at the end of this one will be very sweet indeed


	15. Chapter 15

****JayaEmera - thanks for following.

Glorelwen - I'm glad you think so

ILovevolleyball - sorry for being cruel... nah. I'm not really! I hope this chapter doesn't kill you too much and don't worry, it will soon be over... I think! As usual thanks for the review. You are keeping me going you crazy, lovely person :) ( Btw, would love your input on my little drabble called Gone)

Ok, so here's the next one. Hope you like it and please don't forget to let me know what you think !

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**Chapter 15**

Two days have passed since their battle with the orcs and the three brothers have not given up their search yet begin to be more and more fearful of its outcome. No further foul creatures have crossed their path but the twins have heard distant growls and noises which seem to indicate that they themselves are being tracked. They are also worried that Estel has withdrawn into a brooding silence they are unable to break however hard they try. Answering queries with monosyllables if at all and barely eating or sleeping the young man appears to be diminishing in front of their very eyes, if he were an elf they would be sure that he was beginning to fade. " 'Dan, we can't go on, we must get Estel back to Ada" Elrohir whispers softly, leaning into his twin although he knows the object of their discussion is oblivious to his surroundings. " Do you want to try taking him home?" his twin replies, " I have a feeling it would be impossible," the youngest twin glances over to where his human brother paces, eyes fixed upon the ground as his brother gives a wry smile " and I have no wish to enter into combat with a desperate Estel even if you do, I value my skin too much!" Elladan is pleased to hear a small muffled chuckle issue from his twins lips at this comment, he is trying hard to keep calm for Elrohirs sake but is finding it increasingly difficult. As the eldest he feels he has a responsibility to his father to ensure the safety of both his siblings however difficult this becomes and it is even harder when trying to keep his true feelings from flowing over the bond he shares with his twin. They walk on in silence, following the young man who is glaring at the ground passing under his feet as if it is deliberately trying to foil his attempts at tracking the missing prince. Was it only yesterday that they came upon the unnerving clearing with its discomforting contents?

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They had taken time for a short rest following their impromptu battle with the orcs, knowing that their search had just been made nigh on impossible however, relinquishing it was not something that any of them chose to consider. With their wounds treated all three had sat in silent thought, sipping at a restorative tea Estel had brewed and contemplating a future in which the golden haired prince they each called friend was not present. Separately they respectively had decided that whatever action the others chose to take they would not abandon the search and when two pairs of determined, deep brown eyes eventually met the steely, confrontational gaze of stormy grey an understanding had been reached that needed no words.

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It had been about half a days journey later that the three companions had stumbled upon a small clearing in the woods in which the iron tang of blood lay heavy on the air, assaulting the elves senses. Walking over to the remains of the storm shot tree at its centre they soon discovered the drying remains of a not insubstantial puddle of blood pooled around its roots. Horrified, they stood as statues, and stared down at the browning mess as if mesmerised by its presence before Estel broke their fugue like states as he squatted to peer closer at the gore, then uttered a sudden exclamation and reached out to touch the rough bark of the stump with trembling fingers. Standing silently he held out his hand for his brothers to see and there, captured gently in his sword calloused hand lay a single strand of exquisite, long, golden hair. He felt his heart may stop as he curled his fist back around the GOLDEN trophy and clutched it to his chest whilst unheeded tears began to flow freely from eyes squeezed tight in anguish. This could not be happening, he wanted to scream but sorrow had his throat in a vice like grip and he could only whimper with a strangled cry like a rabbit caught in a trap, but the evidence was overwhelming, this was Legolas's hair they all knew without doubt, that this was, moreover, his blood was also beyond question but what had become of their friend, and his captor was what puzzled them now.

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As the three brothers make their sorrowful discovery the object of their deliberations is bent double, elegant hands resting upon the tops of his thighs as he tries to still his ragged breathing. It has been harder than he ever thought possible to keep moving, slowly placing one foot in front of the other in an effort to put as much distance as possible between himself and the clearing. It has been two days since his first, faltering steps led him from that Valar forsaken glade and although his strength is gradually returning, he still has to rest at too frequent intervals, a fact that frustrates him intolerably. He has neither seen, nor heard anything to suggest his erstwhile captors, or any others, presence during his bid for freedom but is well aware that in his depleted state, senses usually to be relied upon for his life will be dulled and useless, leaving him almost as vulnerable as a human to further attack from predators of all forms. He hates himself for this perceived weakness but has come to realise that railing against his own body is going to gain him nothing and all he can do is continue moving forward and trust to his elven healing powers to restore him to normality as soon as possible. His breath gradually settles at last and, forcing himself upright, he slowly moves off again, uncaring of which direction he takes, hardly daring to hope that he may make it to shelter and safety after all, counting the steps his tired feet take to keep his mind from replaying the horrific events he has endured.

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" He has gone this way!" there is a new sense of urgency in Estels voice as he follows a thin trail of blood away from the stump and the twins too pick up their pace after him. After the initial shock and despair hope has flared once more within their chests, there is no sign of a body anywhere and the young man has discovered tell tale rusty marks left by the archers wounds when he stumbled away into the woods. Now they carefully follow this tenuous link, daring to believe it possible to find their missing friend before further harm should come his way. That the signs of his passing are so easy to read tempers their optimism slightly, knowing as they do that a wood elf in his prime would leave no trace, and this wood elf in particular is especially good at disappearing until he wishes to be found, however, it is with lighter hearts that they continue on, eyes fixed on the ground beneath their feet, senses alert for the slightest sound, drawn deeper between the trees.

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High in the canopy, unseen by all save a few birds, Lhosson stalks his prey. He watches impassively as the archer continues on his way, noting the gradual return of strength and secretly admiring the dogged determination shown. For a few, brief, moments he again looks upon the young prince as he did whilst he was his mentor and friend and pride swells within his breast, then, the dark dagger of malevolence returns again to twist into his heart and he is lost to hatred once more. "Soon, so soon now" his hushed whisper reaches no ears and he feels his heartbeat quicken in anticipation of what is to come."It will not be long now Erlinniel till I send him to face you." His eyes gleam with a dark light as the elf beneath him stumbles slightly over a tree root before regaining his balance and he makes a sudden decision. He has waited for long enough. Erlinniel has waited long enough. It is time to complete the final part of his plan to wreak vengeance on this young upstart, to make him pay for his arrogant selfishness, to destroy him utterly, and he knows exactly how. Checking to ensure that the young archer is still heading in the same direction, with a sudden surge of speed, he moves a short distance ahead before carefully choosing his spot, then descending to ground level to lean nonchalantly against a tall tree. He has kept Legolas' long knife in his own quiver and now withdraws both this and his own to loosely twirl them in his hands as he waits for his prey to catch up.

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Legolas feels his foot hit the small root of a tree and just manages to catch himself before he falls, grimacing at the lack of his usual sure footed grace. He stops briefly to glower at the offending extrusion then continues on wearily, still maintaining the count almost as a mantra, a charm, to ensure his continuing freedom and return to normality. His world has been reduced to the gradually climbing numbers and as they slowly rise so does his hope. Stumbling on, concentration fixed on his steps, he fails to spot the waiting figure standing in the shadows beneath a tall oak, walking blindly past until he is arrested by a well known voice. " Well, if it isn't the 'honourable' young princeling of Mirkwood". Lhosson steps out of the shadows, his mouth twisted into a sneering smile. "Thought you had got away from me did you?" He spots the slight fall in the slender figures shoulders as the young archer halts, and relishes the sense of power he feels at this sign of defeat.

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Standing completely still, refusing to give his adversary the pleasure of seeing the pain and misery etched upon his face Legolas musters his will to calm his features before turning to face the elder. Head held high he warily watches the whirling blades now spinning in Lhossons hands before glancing up to look into the elfs eyes. Once there his gaze is caught by the sheer hatred emanating from the formerly sparkling green orbs which seem to darken to an inky blackness as he feels the emotion increase and nearly crumbles beneath its force. The twirling blades advance yet he refuses to let his body move, his iron will bent upon the wish to show no fear, no weakness to this elf who has changed so much he is hardly recognisable any longer as the kindly mentor he once was and he feels his heart ache for the loss. Suddenly the blades cease their frantic movement to rest crosswise on either side of Legolas' pale neck and Lhossons face leers into his, breath whispering across ashen cheeks as he leans in to stare compellingly into his sorrowful eyes. " Tell me, 'my prince'" the elder sneers, " do you fear death?"


	16. Chapter 16

I would just like to say thanks to everyone who is still reading this and especially to those of you who have followed/favourited and reviewed. It makes me feel its worth carrying on with the story.

**ilovevolleyball- **you and your sister are crazy! Love it!. Hopefully this chapter will help go some way to calm you down... nah, actually I'm lying. I don't think it will. *evil laugh* I'm glad Authorunable noticed the Will Turner link there I just couldn't resist, it fitted so well. Thanks for your feelings on Gone too. I'm glad the emotions came through. I wasn't sure if I had gone too OTT with it. Whos POV did you read it from out of interest?

Well I best let you get on with the next installment. Here goes...

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**Chapter 16**

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The two elves stand face to face, their only movement the light rise and fall of chests with each breath they take. Neither wants to be the one to break eye contact. A battle of wills both feel the need to win. Time holds no meaning as they are trapped within a world now shrunken to encompass their bodies only, there is nothing else that matters, only them. A sudden, swift movement breaks the spell as a tiny green bird flits between their gaze, the two are so close that each feels the gentle brush of a soft wing upon their forehead as it passes. Both turn to watch as it disappears off between the trees and for a moment share the feeling of just having witnessed something unique and magical but this rapport does not last and Legolas once again feels the cold edge of a blade resting upon his neck.

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"One quick slice and it will all be over," a whispered breath conveys Lhossons message to the archers ear, his mouth so close it is almost like a caress, and an involuntary shiver runs down his frame from the intensity held within those few words. " Yet that would be too easy," the voice continues, now louder and dripping with contempt, "and I have no intention of making this easy, you have spent too much time having things easy 'my prince'." Once again the honorific is spat out with malice. " Leaving others to do battle in your place whilst you take your leisure in Imladris, never heeding the dangers faced to ensure our peoples safety." The words flow fast and furiously from the elders lips, "you make me sick! To think I once taught you, took pride in you, loved you as if you were my own, trusted you to look after my most precious….." the words fade away and all is silent once more as each elf contemplates the one before him, both hearts filled with anguish, one for what has been and one for what might have become.

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Lhosson quickly steps back a pace as the tension surrounding them continues to shimmer, almost palpably in the air. Raising one hand he holds a knife out to the archer, ivory handle first, an offering which his eyes entreat harshly to be accepted. Legolas looks down to see sunlight glint briefly off the blade of his own knife and wonders at this sudden change of fortune. Why should his captor do this? Why give him back his knife? His eyes are brimming with confusion as he looks back up into the once kindly face but sees only a blank expression with challenge written loud in dark eyes.

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"Take it!" the elder shakes the knife to emphasise words hissed through clenched teeth, " go on, take it!" Legolas reaches out in slow motion and feels his fingers curl around the familiar handle, he is unsure whether his reluctance to take back what is his is due to foresight or fear and this is a new sensation for neither have been his companion before. Without thought his blade is lifted, then flipped end over end to settle once more within his grip, gently cradled where it belongs and waiting patiently for its next action. His gaze has never left that of Lhossons during the reaquaintance of hand and knife and now he tilts his head slightly and raises an eyebrow in silent query.

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By way of an answer the elder takes a further step back and raises his other hand, the one that contains his own long knife and twirls the blade effortlessly through his fingers once more before letting it rest in a deceivingly lax grip. "Fight me," the challenge is issued in a soft drawl, "let me see if you remember any of what I taught you, or have you become too soft, too weak over these past few years." The black handled knife is suddenly brought to life once more with these words and begins to flash back and forth as it is passed from left hand to right in a blur of movement.

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"I have no wish to fight you" there is strength and sorrow in the quiet words "why do you want this?" The knife in Legolas' hand hangs loosely at his side as he speaks, his will concentrated upon presenting a relaxed demeanor. " There is no reason for combat between us." With this he half turns as if to walk away but is stopped by the sharp pain of blade through flesh as Lhossons knife pierces his left side, is twisted and removed in a single rapid movement, then, faster than a blink of the eye the elder is before him once more, so close he can feel warm breath upon his face.

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" Oh, but you will, youngling, or this time Mandos will claim you." there is another blur of movement and another sharp intake of breath as the black handled knife again tastes blood. " Or are you too much of a coward to face me, have you forgotten what it means to be a warrior." Lhossons voice rises in both speed and pitch, " fight, you craven, spoiled, pampered elfling" as the taunts continue so the blade maintains its dance, drawing fresh blood from the archers pale body and the elder becomes more frenzied with each new stripe of red ." You want to fight. I can see it in your eyes. Coward! Coward! Cowar…" Finally the black handled knife meets ringing resistance as the instinct for self preservation takes over and elven blade kisses elven blade. Without thought Legolas has joined the dance, his mind crying out to stop but his body unwilling to take further punishment. As they circle one another warily each faking a slash or stab here and there the archer considers his options. Looking into his opponents eyes he sees that reason has left to be replaced by a dark madness that nothing but death will satisfy. The only option he has is to fight and hope that he can tire his old mentor enough to capture him and prevent further tragedy. With a nod to the elder his mind is set, this is the only course of action now possible, he will trust to the Valar that his skill is enough and he begins to fight.

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"What was that?" the twins halt their forward motion, uttering the words almost simultaneously. " What was what?" Estel turns and looks back at his adoptive brothers, his dark eyebrows raised in query. Elladan places his finger to his lips in an indication for silence which is underlined by the forceful stare he sends the young humans way. They stand mutely, each ear straining to catch an evasive sound they are unsure exists. " There!" Elrohirs eyes gleam " the meeting of blades, if I am not mistaken," he turns to his twin for confirmation knowing that the sound will be too faint for human ears to discern. "Aye" the elder twin replies simply, nodding to his brother in agreement, " and I perceive only two."

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"Legolas" the name comes out as a soft prayer from the young human as he tries desperately to make his ears pick up the sounds, and curses softly as he can not. " Which way?" desperation laces his question and his eyes move swiftly from one twin to the other, willing them to lead him swiftly in the right direction and as Elladan raises a finger to point he wastes no time in further talk, simply moves rapidly away on the indicated course hope once more shining in his iridescent eyes.

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The clash of blade upon blade rings through the woods as the elven battle continues. Master and pupil are now locked in a combat neither will concede. Legolas knows that this is no friendly sparing match, the slightest slip will mean either the end or everlasting sorrow and he is unsure which of these two fates will be the worst. Their bodies move almost independently of thought, well honed and practised over the years, there is little between their skill despite the age difference, so well matched that their moves synchronise and it becomes a mesmerising spectacle as they thrust, twist, parry twirl and jump through the woods, making use of logs and rocks on the uneven ground in vain attempts to distract each other and unsecure respective footings. Time moves on unheeded and still they continue. Both blades have now tasted blood yet neither elf has felt the sharp kisses bestowed upon pale skin so wrapped up in the endless dance they have ceased to notice all else.

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Estel hastens through the trees, his brothers in tow, heart racing, fear making it thump in his ears like a drum, almost drowning out the sounds he can now hear clearly, the sounds his brothers perceived before. Heedless of any danger ahead he ploughs on with one thought, to save his dearest friend or die trying. A sudden blur of movement to his left catches his eye and he stops, to stand transfixed by the sight before him, two figures moving with such speed and grace as he has never before witnessed. He has watched his brothers spar together and on occasion Glorfindel and Elrond but this, this takes his breath away, if it were not so deadly, he thinks it would be beautiful. He turns his head to the twins and sees they too seem rooted to the spot by the fighting pair, both observing in silent awe as the blades and bodies whirl. He looks back and impossibly, the pace increases, now both forms become a fluid blur of colours, inseparable to the human eye and he realises, with a sinking heart that there is nothing he can do to stop this, he has neither the skill nor the speed to intercede and is unsure if even his brothers could step in now. All they can do is watch as the dance continues and hope that their friend will prevail.

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Legolas knows he is tiring, the injuries sustained over the past few days are beginning to take their toll, pain lingers at the back of his perception but he refuses to acknowledge it and bring it to life, yet, as he continues to push his body up to and beyond the edge of its endurance it is becoming more insistent. He fears his strategy is not working, the elder seems to be gaining more strength as they continue the fight and he can see the gleam of triumph in the darkened eyes as Lhosson realises he has the upper hand. It is with a sickening realisation of failure that the young archer finally missteps and finds himself on his knees in the leaf litter strewn under the trees, he manages to roll from under the downward plunging knife poised above him as he prepares to stab upwards with his own in an effort to deflect the killing blow and suddenly hears his name shouted out in an anguished cry. Both elves are distracted by the sound momentarily and concentration wavers for one, short second, but that is all it takes. Both elves feel metal plunge through flesh, both feel a searing pain as their eyes are drawn to the sight, then to each others, the world stops, this is all there is, one moment in time that endures for ever in the mind, playing over and over again. One moment in which everything changes and the future lays undecided. For one the pain of the flesh will be erased all too soon as they start the journey to another life, for the other the pain of the fea will continue on into eternity.


	17. Chapter 17

****I would just like to say thanks for the favourites and reviews and if you're reading but not reviewing then thanks to you too. I hope you like it.

Ilovevolleyball - I love your reviews, always so... whats the word?... ah yes.. Enthusiastic! and crazy, totally crazy. Glad you liked the last chapter, it took a while for me to get it to a point where I liked it, in fact its getting harder as I go on. I know where I'm going with the story but the characters sometimes seem to keep trying to change my mind. Oh, yes to answer your question OTT means over the top.

Anyhoo, moving on. Heres the next chapter and please, please review. Even if you think it sucks! It feeds the muse.

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**Chapter 17**

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Time slows.

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The three observers in the trees feel their hearts try to leap from their mouths as they behold the fatal scene being played out in front of them. Estel looks on in horror as he watches Legolas lose his footing and it seems to take forever for him to land on the treacherous ground, twisting his body, in an effort to keep his blade in play, he hears the elfs name ring out in a cry filled with such grief and fear he wonders at its source before understanding dawns and the soreness in his throat indicates that the sound has come from his own mouth. He can't move. His mind cannot will his body out of its frozen stupor and he can only look on in appalled terror as time, once again, begins to flow normally and two knives flash in opposing directions. He wants to close his eyes, to look away, not to have to see the inevitable. Yet. His eyes refuse the command to seal or turn and they remain fixed, hypnotised, upon the travelling blades, widen at the abrupt spurt of crimson as yielding flesh is pierced and the harsh scrape of pained metal upon metal sounds its curtain call and enlarge even further as two bodies tangle together in a crumpled heap, to lie, unmoving, upon the woodland floor.

.

Time stops.

.

All sound and movement has ceased. Three stand as statues, their heartbeats seemingly halted, their lungs unwilling to take in air. Even the trees are still, not a single leaf stirs, no bird calls or insect scratches. The world appears to be waiting, in limbo, unwilling to face that which has happened, to own it and make it real, To name it for what it is. The young man knows he must move, must cling on to hope and try to lend what aid he can before it becomes too late but his limbs feel leaden and a chill hand has wrapped itself around his heart to squeeze unmercifully at the beating organ, draining his strength and resolve and all he can do is stay, motionless, captivated by the heartbreaking tableau before him. And slowly, time reasserts itself and a red river begins to flow from underneath the fallen elves.

.

It is Elladan who recovers first. With a sobbing cry he rushes over and falls to his knees reaching out to run shaking fingers over pale skin, feeling for any signs that speak of life. The spell is thus broken and his brothers quickly join him, shaking their heads as if trying to clear them after waking from an unpleasant dream. " Does, he live?" he question is whispered in a small, trembling voice as Elrohir looks to his twin with pain wracked eyes then allows his eyes to fall disconsolately as he is met with a gentle shake of the dark head. "Aie, Elbereth!" the younger twin breathes " you know what this will mean?" He can hardly bring himself to meet his siblings gaze, he knows he will see the same emotions raging through the troubled, brown orbs as must be apparent in his own. At these words Estel passes his gaze from one twin to the other, a frown gathering upon his forehead before settling himself on the ground and lifting the princes limp body to cradle him gently in his arms. With one hand he automatically starts to run strands of golden hair through his fingers, relief crashing through his body like a tidal wave. Legolas lives. Legolas lives. That is all that matters. He may be unconscious, unaware, and wounded but he lives and as the words replay themselves over and over in his head tears of relief begin to fall, unheeded, upon the pale face he holds so close.

.

After ensuring that life has indeed fled from the antagonists body the twins share a moment of silent communication then turn to their adoptive brother. " Come, Estel, he has wounds that need tending." Elrohir gently places a hand upon the young mans shoulder, and uses the clipped, emotionless style of speech adopted by his father in the halls of healing in an effort to break through the shocked trance he notes the human has fallen into. wordlessly grey eyes meet brown and acknowledged acceptance flows from one pair to the other and between them they begin to check the princes flaccid body mentally reviewing the many scars and wounds to decide upon which order they should be dealt with.

.

Whilst his brothers examine the fallen archer Elladan opens his pack and lays out the various herbs and bandages he feels may be needed to aid them to stabilise their charge in order to transport him back to Imladris as soon as possible. He then takes a deep breath and once more bends over Lhossons body to take hold of the ivory handled knife that protrudes from the unmoving chest. As his fingers curl around the hilt he remembers the many times he has watched this weapon wielded so expertly in battle, how often it has come to both his and his brothers rescue when faced with seemingly uneven odds and wonders how many servants of the darkness it has claimed over its long life. Pausing to sigh ruefully over the life now added to its toll he briefly closes his eyes and with a singular, fluid movement withdraws the bloodstained blade, wipes it clean on a handful of leaves and places it in his own quiver. With the knife removed he is then able to wrap the lifeless body in a blanket taken from his own bedroll in order to help transport it back to Imladris for his father to decide what must next be done. This job completed he rinses his bloodstained hands with water from his carrier and turns to his brothers noting that Legolas remains unmoving even though two pairs of hands are gently washing and bandaging the myriad of wounds that seem to have left no part of him unmarked.

.

Knowing that they will need help in transporting both wounded and dead Elladan raises his head and sends out a shrill two tone whistle. Their horses, though allowed to run free what seems a lifetime ago when the orcs had first attacked them, should not have strayed too far and provided they have managed to avoid the foul creatures, will come at his call, having been trained well over the years and loving their masters as they do. He stands and listens for a moment, then nods slightly to himself as a faint answering nicker is heard in reply. Satisfied that they are on the way he begins to gather up their belongings to reorganise his pack and make ready for the journey home.

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"He does not wake." Estels whispered voice carries a weight of emotion " even though this must pain him, he stirs not." The young man is meticulously Losing a long gash upon the princes right forearm, the final wound inflicted upon his already scarred body when his blade deflected Lhossons last desperate lunge before piercing the elders chest. It runs from wrist to elbow in a garish red stripe with the white of bone peeking out from between layers of skin and tissue and although deep enough to require stitching there is never so much as a slight tremble from the archer in acknowledgement of the treatment being undertaken. Estel raises distressed eyes to catch Elrohirs for reassurance but finds similar emotions swimming within those of his brothers so quickly drops his once more to finish his task.

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The sound of approaching hooves can now be heard by all three brothers and initial wary alertness gives way to relieved sighs as the soft familiar neigh of a horse precedes the appearance of their own, well loved mounts. No time is lost now in gathering the remaining bandages and herbs, to repack and load and in scouring the area to ensure nothing is left behind. Estel picks up the ebony handled knife stained with his best friends blood from where it has lain in the gore soaked grass, unnoticed until now and stares at it intently, a look of disgust and loathing etched deep upon his face, ire mounting before Elladan prises it free from the anger controlled fingers then places it with its opposite in his own quiver. "Come Estel, mount and I will pass him up to you," he bends to carefully pick up the unresisting form of their young friend and helps his human brother settle the prince securely before him on his horse. " I will take the other," turning to his twin with an expression that will brook no argument he then swiftly gains the back of his own stallion and waits until the body is placed across his saddle and tied in place. "Come, let us fly" with these words his great warhorse turns and begins to move as swiftly as possible through the trees in the direction of Imladris, his companions in tow.


	18. Chapter 18

Just want to say thanks for the lovely reviews and messages. It's much appreciated and helps feed the muse nicely. :)

Oh, yes and ilovevolleyball - its no good hiding, I know its you, I'd recognise your wonderful, crazy reviews anywhere!. (Guest indeed. pah!) I hope you're feeling better and it wasn't meningitis and I'm glad if I managed to cheer you up a little.

Anyhoo, on we go. This is a longer chapter but I just couldn't find the right place to split it so I hope you don't mind.

Please feel free to let me know what you think, not that I'm begging or anything. :)

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**Chapter 18**

**.**

_Darkness, all around is darkness. I remember this. I welcome its friendly touch, like a silken sheet wrapped around my body. I feel myself sinking into its glorious embrace and all my pains and fears retreat. I float. Free. Relishing the silence, soothed by the absence of sensation. This is where I belong, in the darkness. I have come home._

_._

Sunlight filters through the window its golden fingers gently playing upon the pallid features of the inert figure lying beneath crisp, white sheets. With a sense of deja vu the lord of Imladris walks to the bed and places a long, elegant hand gently onto his adopted sons shoulder, "you should get some rest Estel" he knows the words will go unheeded but feels he has to try. " Why does he not wake Ada?" The young man raises eyes glistening with unshed tears, " his wounds heal. Why does he not wake?" "The wounds to his body are healing well yes, ion nin, my son, we must just be patient, the wounds of the mind take time." Elrond affectionately squeezes the young mans shoulder, " it has only been two days since your return and it would appear he had been resoundingly abused before you brought him back." He turns his gaze upon that of his eldest son who is seated on the opposite side of the invalids bed, raises an eyebrow, then nods to the door in an almost imperceptible signal. Picking up the sign Elladan raises himself from his chair, sighs and stretches languidly, "I'll just go and see about getting you some food sent in Estel, you need to eat whether or not you sleep." Without waiting for a reply he walks to the door and exit's the room, his younger brother never even noticing he has left. Elrond audibly sighs and with one last pat of his hand also turns to leave, there are things that must be discussed with the twins and they are best done without Estels presence.

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Have you sent word to Mirkwood yet?" The question has left the younger twins lips even before his father and brother enter fully into Elronds study. " How long do you think it will take to get there, what will Thranduil do?" Anguished concern heightens the pitch of his speech as he gabbles out the last sentence in haste and Elladan swiftly crosses to his side to wrap a comforting arm around his waist. Both stand looking to their father expectantly wearing matching pained expressions upon their worried faces. "Thranduil should have news within a week, Valar permitting" Elrond lowers himself into the high backed chair behind his desk as he speaks and raises the fingers of his right hand to caress his brow, "as to what he will do," he pauses, deep in thought, "I know not." The last words escape his mouth in an exhausted sigh.

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The twins share a glance filled with compassion, then move to stand either side of their father and place loving hands upon his world weary shoulders, sharing the grief and pain they all feel over the tragic events. "And what of Estel, ada, father?" Elrohirs voice is soft and underlain with great sorrow, "what do we say to Estel?"

.

"What can we say to Estel?" the younger twin visibly flinches at the rough edges to his siblings words, "there is no easy way to tell it 'Roh, he must know the truth." With this two pairs of deep brown eyes lock in combat, each battling for the other to give way. This is obviously the continuation of a previous conversation that has not gone to the liking of either.

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Enough!" Both twins eyes turn to their father in startled surprise as he rises with this sharp retort to stand between them, hands placed palms down on the desk and stares from one to the other with a fierce glare they know all too well. "Sorry ada, father." two contrite voices speak as one and Elronds face softens once more,. "Nay, it is I who should be sorry ionnath nin, my sons, I allowed worry to cloud my mind." He sighs and regains his seat, "but you are right 'dan, we must tell Estel before too much longer." The pained expression on his face fills his sons with concern. " It needs to be done before an envoy from Mirkwood arrives." His eyes appear to hold the cares of the world within their depths as he gazes at some distant scene only he can see. " I will speak with him this afternoon."

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_Light? Why is there a light? I have never been aware of light here before. It feels wrong. What is happening? This change disturbs me and I find myself suddenly buffeted and tossed as if caught in some eddy yet I feel no air around me. Panic begins to rise in my chest as the soft feeling of comfort begins to metamophose into one of cloying suffocation. I am being swirled around and around, rushed towards the menacing light. Nooooo, leave me here in the dark. I want to scream but have no voice. I strike out but there is nothing to fight. Contentment and security have fled, I am trying to hold on to them but as the light grows them seem to diminish further and further. Without warning pain erupts within my heart, as if it is impaled upon some sharp instrument, then explodes through my body and I see stars. For a few, short, wonderful moments I think the darkness has returned, then I am swamped, as light envelops the whole of my body, and I feel myself burn._

_._

"Legolas, Legolas saes, please, wake" the young man is frantically trying to rouse the unconscious elf as he thrashes in the bed, tangling himself within the cotton sheets." Saes, Legolas, 'tis me, Est…" his soothing words are abruptly cut off when a flailing hand connects with the side of his head and for a moment the world lurches and stars shimmer before his eyes, then , with a shake of his head, he gathers his wits and throws himself over the writhing elfs body, effectively pinning him to the bed. " ADA!" As he calls out he feels the body beneath him suddenly go limp but relief at the cessation of the elfs struggles swiftly turn to anguish once more as his friends back arches almost impossibly high off the bed, thrusting him into the air and thence to the floor, before falling to the bed once more to lay, rigid, muscles trembling with effort, mouth stretched wide open as if in a silent scream. "ADA! Saes, HELP!" Scrambling to his feet Estel rushes to the door and flings it open to shout into the corridor beyond then returns to the contorted figure on the bed. With a tentative hand he reaches out to brush a strand of wayward flyaway hair away from eyes clenched shut tight in apparent agony, he can not bear to see his friend like this yet does not know what he can do to help, he feels so lost and insignificant. Unsure if the young prince can hear him or not he begins to sing an elven lullaby he remembers his adopted father used to sing to him whenever he was upset or ill as a child, and as he sings he combs gentle fingers through tangled golden locks willing his friend to relax under his touch.

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Seated alone at his desk Elrond contemplates the best way to approach his youngest son to impart the information he wishes he need not divulge but knows he must. His heart quails at the thought of what the young mans reaction will be yet he knows that it cannot be put off forever and the longer it is left the harder the task will become. Not for the first time in his long lived life does he wish for his wifes soothing, calm presence at his side, she always made dealing with lifes difficulties a little easier for him to bear, she was his rock, his anchor, the other half of his fea and sometimes, as it is now, his heart breaks all over again as the longing for her becomes painful in its intensity. He smiles wistfully as a picture of her enters his mind, she is standing before him, her beautiful face, framed by the luxurious long, dark curls he loved to twine his fingers through, tilted up to his, one dainty, pale hand stretched out to caress his face as if to smooth away the worry lines he knows are all too apparent, radiating love and comfort to help ease his aching heart. The vision is so real that for an instant he leans forward for a kiss only to have the moment broken by an anguished cry for help that cuts through to his soul. "Estel." He whispers the name as he turns to the door, dreams of his beloved Celebrian dissipating like morning mist, then, regardless of appearance, finds himself running through the corridors toward the source of the unnerving call.

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The soothing sound of Estels singing seem to have had some effect upon the slender form he is trying to calm, although muscles still twitch as they are held taut within the rigid body he notices that the mouth, once stretched so wide he feared the jaw would break, has closed and the tension around the eyes seems to have relaxed somewhat. Without breaking the song he gently takes hold of the elfs, stiff, pale hand and as his thumb slowly describes circles upon its back he feels that too begin to relax under his touch and his own body begins to release tension he was unaware it held until now.

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His song abruptly stops as the sight of his adoptive parent actually running into the room startles him into silence. He has not seen the lord of Imladris break into a run within these walls since he was a child and one of his brothers was brought back so gravely injured after a battle with orcs that he almost died. "Ada." " Estel?" The words are uttered almost simultaneously, one in relief, the other in concern as father and son look first to each other then down at the figure on the bed. Elrond takes in the tangled mess of sheets and tense body and the rapid rise and fall of the archers chest before raising questioning eyes once more to Estel. "What happened ion nin, my son? I heard you call and feared the worst."

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"Legolas, he, he just" the young man feels his knees give way beneath him and he sinks onto the edge of the bed, hand still clutching that of his friend as if afraid to let go. " I, I don't know ada, he started to thrash about and I, I thought it was a bad dream so I, tried to wake him and he" Estels voice quivers with emotion and he stops to lick dry lips before continuing, "he suddenly. Oh ada, he looked like he was in so much pain, and he tried to scream, I'm sure he did, but, there was no sound, and his mouth was so wide and he trembled and shook then went so still and stiff and I didn't know what to do and" the garbled flow of words ceases and tears begin to flow unchecked from pools of deepest grey, his voice hitches " I'm so glad you're here."

.

"Hush now," reaching out to gather his son into a fond embrace Elrond murmers quiet soothing words as he gently runs his hand over the back of Estels head, breathing in his unique scent whilst holding him close and marvelling in the fact that this young mortal can hold his heart as dearly as his true born offspring.

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"Ada, we heard, Estels call, what has happened?" Breathless, the twins rush into the room, speaking alternately as if two have become one, to make one full sentence between them as is often the case, especially when under extreme emotional stress. They stand, gazing at the tableau before them, fearing the worst as they take in the tear tracked face of their youngest sibling clasped within their fathers loving embrace then let their eyes fall soulfully to the bed, expecting to see a still figure, cold with death. Relief is almost palpable in the air as they realise their fears are unfounded and with matching sighs of exhaled breath they were unaware they held they once again train their eyes upon their father rife with confusion.

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"All is well ionath nin, my sons" the lord infuses his words with calm and love, " Legolas had a type of seizure it seems, but it has passed now, your brother did well in calming him" he releases his hold on the young man and looks into his eyes as he speaks "you did very well pen neth, young one" he smiles " very well indeed." Estel manages a weak smile of his own at his fathers words then looks sheepishly towards his brothers, "I'm sorry. I panicked. I should not have shouted out so. I did not mean to worry you unnecessarily." His eyes lower as he gazes intently at a small spot on the floor, a red tinge creeping onto his face. " I didn't know what to do." He feels like a child again, caught out in some act of stupidity and wishes his cheeks did not burn so. Knowing his brothers, they will never let him live this down.

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"Ai, Estel," Elladans voice is full of compassion as he takes a step towards the young man " there is no dishonour in asking for help when you need it." " No, of course not" Elrohir is quick to back his brother up " far better to ask for aid in uncertainty than to allow pride to stop you and then suffer dire consequences for lack of it" Both twins nod in tandem at these words and as Estel raises his eyes to meet theirs he feels their love and sincerity and for once finds no hint of the teasing he feels sure is his due.

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A faint moan from the bed then arrests the attention of all four family members and as their interest is drawn to the pale young being lying there his eyes flutter open, blinking in the light, and another faint noise escapes from his lips. "Lhosson?" The name is whispered so softly it is almost a sigh and his head turns as if seeking something, or someone. "Lhosson?" The name is repeated as an agitated question and Estel rushes to the bed to take hold of his friends hand. "Estel?" blue eyes stare up in confusion at the young man and for a moment he is unsure if the elf sees him or somebody else. " I'm here, mellon nin, my friend, I'm here" squeezing the slim fingers gently he watches as the elfs gaze appears to clear and a look of relief passes through the saphire eyes. " You're safe now. Lhosson's gone, he will hurt you no more, you're safe" The young man is not sure whether he utters the words for his friends comfort or his own as he bends to touch his forehead to the archers but cares not. All that matters is that Legolas is alive and awake once more and for this he would gladly embarrass himself in front of an army if need be.

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"How?" the question is left hanging as the young archers mind struggles to comprehend the situation, then tries again. "Where?" a grimace of frustration flashes across his face as he realises he is not making sense. "Lhosson?" He sighs and blue eyes briefly close as he tries to pull his thoughts together to form a coherent string.

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"Relex pen neth, drink this" Legolas' eyes open at the sound of Elronds voice and he automatically clenches his lip[ tight against the cup being held to his mouth, "it is only water Legolas, I promise you," the lord emits a low chuckle as he sees the sceptical look levelled at him when he offers the cup again. He knows that the young prince is remembering the many times he has been given infusions to make him sleep when he has not wished to and although knowing it has always been done with his best interests at heart remains suspicious of any drink put in front of him whilst under the elders treatment. Eventually giving in to his thirst, Legolas takes a tentative sip and, after realising that yes, it is just water, greedily gulps down the remainder as Elrond holds his head as he drinks then lowers it gently back to the pillow again. "Better now?"

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Legolas nods his head in reply and smiles at the lord then turns his head to take in the other occupants of the room." How, how am I here?" his voice sounds small and lost. " You found me." His eyes pass from one brother to the next with a wondering gaze." Of course we found you" a wide smile spreads over the young mans face " you should know by now that you can not escape us for long mellon nin.""However often you try" the youngest twin interjects with a smirk. A small chuckle escapes from the princes smiling mouth at this and he attempts to push himself up into a sitting position only to meet resistance in the form of a firm hand upon his chest. Half lying and half sitting he turns a glowering look on the owner of the obstruction " I am fine Estel, let me rise" his eyes hold the promise of future violence if the request is not granted, " tell him Elrond, I am fine" frosty blue eyes turn towards the elder with an imperial look so obviously inherited from the king of Mirkwood and Elrond concedes with an almost imperceptible raise of an eyebrow and tilt of the head before nodding to his youngest to accede to the archers wish.

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"You may sit up pen neth" the elder fixes Legolas with one of his most intimidating stares " but you will stay in bed until I give you leave to rise" the stare becomes more steely than ever "is that understood?" Legolas visibly wilts under the force of Elronds will " aye, my Lord," he nods deferentially " I understand." He shrugs off the young mans hand and pushes himself into a sitting position, wriggling to comfortably lean back against the pillows that have been heaped against the bed head, with barely a flinch. " Told you I was fine." A smile flits briefly across his face as he looks towards his best friend, "why do you never believe me, distrustful human?" " Because you never tell the truth, stubborn elf!" The grin accompanying the young mans words belies the fact that he can tell the young archer is still in pain although he knows it would take wild horses to drag this fact from the elf. " Do you remember what happened?" Estels eyes are fixed upon the figure in the bed so he misses the slight stiffening of his fathers body and accompanying worried glance that passes between the three family members as he speaks.

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A frown collects on the princes brow whilst he contemplates Estels question. " I " there is a long pause as sapphire blue eyes lose focus to stare into the past, " I, was tied up, I" the frown deepens " I, was left, alone, I" eyes widen slightly at the recollection " Lhosson? It was Lhosson, I, we," Legolas' breathing starts to quicken as the memories return " we, he, he made me fight, I, I didn't want to, I, please, I didn't want to, he just kept on, kept cutting, kept on coming, so tired, I was so tired, I," his voice tails off to a whisper " I, tripped, I" suddenly he sits bolt upright, what colour has returned to his face now drains once more untill he resembles a ghost and his sky blue eyes widen in horror. " No" a sibilant hiss, " No, no" his head shakes trying to negate the truth of what his memory sees, " no, no, no, noooo!" Four figures make a frantic bid to reach the young elf as his cry escalates in speed and volume and he attempts to leap from the bed. " Noooooooooooo!" with one last cry he suddenly stops as if frozen in place. He does not feel strong arms gather him into their fond embrace nor hear the gentle sounds of soothing words murmured as the lord of Imladris holds him close, a look of intense pain upon his usually stern face. " Kinslayer" one last whispered word leaves the princes palid lips, then he crumples, insensate into Elronds waiting clasp.

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	19. Chapter 19

Just a quick line to say thanks to those of you still reading and especially to those who have reviewed. I can't believe you are all being so nice to me! * Looks over to see if you're reading someone elses story by mistake* Hopefully you will continue to like it.

Ilovevolleyball - you are now officially my number one fan! *Bows* You MUST be crazy. Your reviews make my really should have a go at this writing lark, you could do a brilliant comic story I bet, how about Leggy introducing Gimli to Thranduil? Now thats got potential for you to play with, lots of crazyness could happen there! Anyway, favourite colours hmmm, * thinks... smirks* that could work somewhere! You'll have to wait and see ;)

**Important message for everyone follows:-**

**I have to tell you that I'm sorry but you may well have to wait for the next update. We am going away on Sunday for two weeks and I have been banned from taking my laptop. I am hoping to smuggle it into my bag but if caught there could be repercussions I don't want to think about! So Sorry to do this to you guys but please don't desert me. I promise I'll be back with the next chapters as soon as I can.**

Anyway, this one took a while, and I'm still not sure that I got the tone right but here we go again. I hope you enjoy it but either way, feel free to let me know! Oh, yes and before I forget I apologise for any mistakes with the elvish- I'm still learning. :)

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**Chapter 19**

'

Kinslayer.

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The word seems to shimmer round the room with an almost palpable presence as the young man stares from one to the other of his family members noting the stricken expressions on each face. His stomach lurches as he realises that there is more to this tale than he is aware of and judging by the reactions of both his adoptive relatives and the now unconscious archer, whatever it is, is not good. His gaze returns to the young elf still resting within his fathers arms. "Ada?" there is a question in that single word which conveys a whole paragraph. " Estel," for once the lord of Imladris appears unsure of how to continue " I, think, we need to talk." The elder finishes smoothing the sheet he has gently covered over the young archer after laying him back down in the bed, then turns troubled brown eyes to meet his youngest sons puzzled grey. " Come, we can find quiet in my office," he looks then to the twins " 'Dan, 'Roh, will you remain with Legolas and call me as soon as he re-awakens please" a meaningful glance passes between the three elves and the younger pair give a brief nod in acknowledgement of the request before the elder moves to exit the room, his youngest son in close attendance.

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The room labelled as Elronds office is so much more than that alone. It is also a library, an apothecaries laboratory and a quiet, comfortable, safe haven he can disappear to if the need arises. Estel has always loved this room too. It embodies his father and since childhood he has always found himself here in times of need or distress. Even without his fathers physical presence it feels that the lord is here to comfort and console and seated, curled up, in the large, overstuffed chair by the fire, worries and cares diminish and fade away to be replaced by feelings of love and contentment. True, there have been odd occasions when this room has seen him rebuked or reprimanded for some minor indiscretion but even this has always been done with love so has never marred the caring atmosphere imbued within its walls.

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As he finds himself gently encouraged to be seated in this easiest of chairs Estel feels his heart begin to race, he is unsure why, but for the first time of being in this room he feels afraid. He looks up to see his father staring with unseeing eyes into the leaping flames dancing in the fireplace as if trying to gather courage from their energy and this unnerves the young man even further. "Ada." Though quietly spoken under his breath the word makes its way into the lords consciousness and with a small shake of his head the lords eyes re focus and as he turns them to his son they briefly shine with painful memories before clearing to their usual fond gaze. " Estel." He stares down at his youngest son, " what do you recall of your history lessons?"

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Silence lays heavy in the room as the twins wait, seated one either side of the bed containing the motionless elf they have come to love as a brother over the past many years. Each one is locked in their own thoughts and memories, from the time they were first introduced to the tiny, elfling prince through to the happenings of the previous few days, trying to make sense of what has led to this point in his life. Neither has spoken or moved since their father and human brother left, both seemingly unwilling, or unsure how, to broach the subject weighing heavily on their minds, as if by keeping it hidden within it will not be real.

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At last Elrohir can keep the fear trapped within his heart no longer, "Why do you think he did it?" the words, though whispered seem so loud in the hushed, leaden atmosphere and both twins visibly flinch at the sound. Identical eyes, filled with anguish, seek each other out then look back down at the young archer. "We will not know until he wakes 'Roh" the eldest briefly reaches out a tentative hand towards the prince as if to touch a porcelain cheek but retracts his hand before making contact, "but I would dearly love to comprehend what was in his mind," he sighs regretfully, " to bring arms to bear against another of our kind, against someone so close, someone you love, someone akin to" there is a pause as Elladans brow creases into a frown and the last word is uttered in disbelief "family!" Shaking his head he raises his eyes to his sibling with a pleading stare "how could he?"

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" I don't know muindor, brother," a comforting mental touch accompanies the words as youngest tries to soothe oldest, " there must have been some reason we do not yet see, Lhosson was always as another father to Legolas, I cannot think what may have occurred to bring about such a change." He sadly shakes his head and lowers his eyes once more to the bed, " oh gwador nin, my sworn brother, what have you done?" and with these words silence once more descends to envelop them in a blanket of unease.

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"History,? Ada? I…" the young mans reply falters as a puzzled expression settles upon his face, "some, but what do my studies have to do with all this?" He delves into the memories he has of time spent with Erestor and other tutors, trying to instil some knowledge of the past into a head too busy with childish thoughts of mischief, make believe and the here and now, "Except" he pauses " Kinslaying?" another pause then " Aqualonde" a name conjured from the depths suddenly rises to the forefront of his mind and he sits in silence for a moment, trying to piece the elusive memories together. " I remember Erestor telling me about how Feanor led the Noldor to Aqualonde and something about them killing the elves that lived there for their ships but, I cannot think why or what bearing that has on what has happened here." He looks to his father in confusion. "What has that to do with Legolas?"

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" You are partially correct ion nin, my son, when you speak of Aqualonde, although that was the first of only three such battles pitching elf against elf, known, you rightly remember, as The Kinslaying and all involving Feanor or his sons." The lords voice falters as he continues, grief written deep within his stern, dark eyes. " The loss of life was great in all. But the third," his voice is now barely a whisper, "the third is considered worst of all as many women and children perished at the hands of the Feanorians." There is a sudden sharp intake of breath as Estel recalls his old family history lessons. "You," he breathes, " you and Elros," the young mans heart fills with sorrow as he remembers the tales " that was when you lost your mother to the sea." The two stare at each other, grey eyes filled with concern, dark brown with great sadness. "Diheno nin, forgive me ada, I forgot, but," there is a hesitation, as if the young man does not wish to cause further distress yet knows he must. " I still do not understand how this affects Legolas."

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The elven lord turns his gaze once more to the fireplace, as if seeking strength from the flames and breathes in deeply. " You must understand Estel," his tone is weary, as if teaching a recalcitrant elfling, "the kin slayings are linked to our doom, it was the Valars judgement upon the Noldor who fought at Aqualonde that they should be refused entry to Valinor unless they repented" he pauses once more to look to his son, "most did not," he lowers his head as if in shame, "and most died in the subsequent battles and became the dispossessed." Although this is many ages ago and he was but a child during the last part of the kin slaying this does not stop the lord from feeling guilt at what his own people did and to talk of it so brings back memories he thought long suppressed. "Kinslaying" he shudders as the word leaves his mouth with reluctance, "kinslaying is the worst crime an elf has ever, or will ever commit."

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"But ada, that was different, there were wars, it was all so long ago, you can't tell me.." the young man rises from the chair in a movement swift enough to make it topple, " you cannot tell me you believe this to be the same?" his voice cracks with emotion and he moves forwards forcing the lord to involuntarily take a step back, "Ada, Legolas was fighting in self defence, I know it, he did not mean to kill, he slipped.." the impassive silence from his father causes his blood to begin to boil, " you know he would not, could not." He stops for a second to stare at the figure before him as if seeing the lord for the first time, "It could have been Legolas lying dead out there!" he gesticulates in the direction of the healing rooms as he spits this last out. " Can you read his thoughts pen neth?" Elronds voice, in contrast to the young mans ranting, is low and controlled. " You were not there at start of the fight, only the end. You did not witness how it began or who was the instigator." the young mans face registers shock and disbelief as his fathers words sink in, "you cannot say what was in his mind".

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"I may not be able to read his thoughts" the words struggle out against clenched teeth, " but I know Legolas' heart, and I thought you did too!" The young man is so wrapped up in his anger that does not realise a third person has entered the room until he feels a sturdy hand placed upon his shoulder and he turns, shrugging it off abruptly to come face to face with his oldest brother.

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"Legolas has awakened" worried deep brown eyes bore a challenge into stormy grey and for a moment they are locked together, until, feeling his anger dissipate, Estel grins ruefully at his brother and lowers his gaze. " Diheno nin, forgive me, ada, 'Dan, it is frustration that makes me speak so". The lord moves closer to place a loving arm around the young mans shoulders and directs a brief shake of the head at Elladan as the twin goes to speak again. " I know pen neth, young one, u-moe evaded, there is nothing to forgive." Elrond smiles gently, " let us go and see how your young friend fares".


	20. Chapter 20

Hi everyone. I'm back! Never thought I could survive for two whole weeks without my trusty laptop but I made it! I have still been working on the story though but it was a pain writing it out by hand. My fingers have cramp from clutching the pen too tight!

Anyway, Thanks to all of you who read, favourited, followed and reviewed the last chapter and hopefully will have been waiting patiently for this one.

To .Queen - hopefully you'll hang on in there to get the answers :)

To my mad no. 1 reviewer (you know who you are!) I'm glad you picked up on the perspective difference. As you so rightly say I was trying to show how even though he has been brought up by elves he isnt one and there are some differences in cultures that are not easily understood by outsiders as it is in real life. You may even be able to work out where I'm going with it too ;) Oh yes, and I decided not to risk the punishment. Couldn't let you down by being banned for a month now could I!?

Anyway, on we go. Here's chapter 20. Hope you like and pretty please with sugar on, review!

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**Chapter 20**

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Seated, high in one of the oldest trees in Imladris, back against the comforting trunk, long legs dangling from the gently swaying branch Legolas surreptitiously watches the tousled haired figure walk slowly past on the ground below with mounting frustration. "Why will they not leave me alone?" the unvoiced words reverborate around his head. It has been two days since he awakened to the twins, strangely reserved, presence beside his bed and this is the first chance he has had to be alone. It would appear that the lord of Imladris and his three sons have deemed it necessary he be accompanied at all times as if they fear what he may do if left to himself and being constantly under somebodys gaze is beginning to grate on the wood elfs nerves. He values his privacy and when at home, often spends hours on his own with just the trees for company. The need to be amongst the trees soothing presence has now become an almost physical one, nature can relieve his pains and anxieties better than all else and the feeling of life and simplicity that surrounds him in the verdant, green leaves he loves so much makes him almost forget why he is there.

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" Ai, Valar, what have I done?" he closes his eyes at the silent plea, not wanting to think about Lhosson, yet unable to leave it alone. The last few moments of their fight keep playing, over and over in his head. He should never have fought back, should not have let the elder rile him, should have tried to talk, to use reason instead of meeting violence with violence. So many things he should have done but did not, and now, there is a price to be paid. " I failed him," this time the words crystalise in the air and he realises he has spoken them aloud. Then the guilt washes over him again and he feels like he is drowning under its huge wave, a vice tightens around his chest, constricting his breathing until he is gulping for air in short, ragged breaths, his heart is being squeezed by icy fingers until the pain becomes almost unbearable and a low moan escapes his lips to be quickly swallowed so as not to give his position away to any who may be near. Failure, he can almost taste the word. Failure.

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Green eyes lit mad with a desire for vengeance stare relentlessly into him from between the leaves wherever he casts his gaze. He cannot escape their accusatory glare, "saes, please, no" whispered words tumble from his mouth, "I did not mean to, I never meant this, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, so stupid, so" the flow is quickly stemmed and he holds his breath as he catches sight of the moving figure once more beneath him, the human will not give up his search it seems and he presses his body back into the tree as if wishing he could merge his form with its, to avoid detection. "Why will he not just leave me alone?" The thought lingers in his troubled mind as he waits for the young man to move on.

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"Legolas!" Estel shouts his friends name in near desperation. He has been searching for the elf for three or four hours now and refuses to give up, even though his brothers have long since told him to leave it and let the prince reappear in his own time. He is unable to stop however, he knows his friend will be hurting and feels a deep need within himself to alleviate the pain he feels partially responsible for, after all, he should have been there, he knows the young archer so well he should have realised he would seek answers for the attack upon his life and kept a closer eye on him, stopped him from stealing away alone thus preventing all this before it began.

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A feeling of guilt has settled within his heart like a stone, he was not there when his friend needed him then, the least he can do is be here for him now. Running his fingers through untidy brown hair for the thousandth time he stands for a minute beneath a tall oak tree he knows he has passed before and listens intently, sure that he has heard a faint sound in the air. A soft rustle of leaves makes him raise his eyes hopefully into the branches above him and for a second thinks he sees a flash of gold on high, but, just as he is gathering himself to scale the tree, a small, yellow bird flits out from between the leaves, leaving a sweet trill in its wake, and as hope fades again his feet resume their aimless wandering.

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With a deep sigh of relief the wood elf relaxes slightly as he sees the young man walk away once more. He was certain that he had been spotted in the tree and for one heart stopping moment he had thought that Estel was going to clamber up to his hiding place, until a saviour, in the shape of a small finch flew out to distract him. Legolas sighs once more and tenderly strokes the roughened bark that supports him allowing himself to feel cocooned within the loving presence. He feels the strength of the tree pouring into him, it offers comfort freely as if able to sense the burdened mind of the wood elf and he accepts its unconditional love and support. He needs this solitude and communion with the trees, this time to accept his failings, his shame and think about what will come.

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The one thing he has never been, even though the enraged elf he knew and once loved, had so recently and repeatedly told him he was, is cowardly, he has never shied from taking responsibility for his actions and this will be no different. For every action taken there is a reaction and he knows it will not be long before he must return home to face the consequences and he must be prepared for this. Home. The thought of home brings a sadness to his sky blue eyes that mirrors the grief in his heart, that he must face his fathers disappointment fills him with shame.

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The feeling of failure grows as he realises how badly he has let his father and his friends down and this makes his heart ache more than the thought of any punishment he must endure. A silver tear makes its way slowly down one porcelain cheek before being hurriedly brushed away, he will not weep, he will be strong and face his father and his people without flinching and with his head held high as a warrior should. " What is done cannot be undone" he whispers " I have let you down ada, I did not intend to but I have and for that I will be eternally regretful, you deserve a better son." He closes his eyes and breathes in the living scents that surround him as if savouring them for the last time then lithely drops from the tree and walks back to the last homely house heart aching but mind resolved.

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The lord of Imladris watches his adopted son pace backwards and forwards restlessly across the grass through his study window, he knows the young man is trying hard to understand all that has happened but is unsure if he really comprehends what his best friend now faces. As much as he has been raised in the elven way of life he is human and the lord feels this difference between himself and the young prince is now going to test their friendship like never before. Elronds heart is heavy with the thought of things to come. He knows that within a day, or two at the most, the party from Mirkwood will arrive, he does not think Thranduil will be among them as he rarely leaves his kingdom but his presence will be here none the less and the lord is unsure how the volatile king will have reacted to his message. That this has happened within Elronds realm will probably have fuelled the fires of the Kings ire and he can only hope that past animosity will not work against the young archer who has become so much a part of their family.

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Wrapped up in his musings, eyes downcast to the floor, the young man fails to notice the others presence until he comes up against a pair of feet encased in soft, brown, leather boots. Raising his troubled grey eyes he looks into cerulean blue that flash briefly with grief then harden to become emotionless and stony. " You look terrible" Legolas frowns as he takes in the unkempt hair and strained features before him " you should really take more care of yourself Estel."The young man gapes for a moment then throws his arms around the elf failing to notice the slight stiffening of his friends body in his elation. " Where have you been, " relief is written in every word, he releases the elf and takes a step back to take in the slight form before him "I've been searching everywhere."" Whatever for? " the archer raises one dark eyebrow nonchalantly "I have been here, in Imladris" his voice is flat and emotionless " where did you think I would be?" The young man is thrown for a moment by his friends dispassionate reply and a quizzical look settles upon his face " I, " he stutters, not knowing quite how to answer " I was worried about you" the words seem so lame once he has uttered them and he suddenly feels like a child again. " I thought " he is unable to finish the sentence as the elf suddenly turns away. "What did you think?" the elfs tone is harsh and unforgiving " that I would need supporting in my 'hour of need'? That I would be crumbling under the strain, or that I would fade with grief?" The elf turns back to stare with cold unfeeling eyes "do you think me so weak Estel?"

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The young man stares as the tirade washes over him, confusion and guilt warring on his face. " Nay, Legolas" he manages finally to speak " I thought to help, that is all, to listen if you wished to talk or" he pauses, unsure of himself now under the steely stare before continuing " just be there." The last three words sound faint to his own ears as his heart is pounding so loudly it seems to drown all else out. This is absurd. This is his friend, yet, suddenly, he feels that he has never met this being before. The eyes, usually filled with light and love are like frozen lakes, hard and unforgiving, the face has lost its naïve joy of life to become an unreadable mask as if all emotion has been swept away to be replaced by an empty void. " Saes, Legolas, mellon nin," an involuntary shudder passes down his spine as he tries to tear his eyes away from the wintry azure orbs seemingly intent on piercing his heart with icicle shards.

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" I need no help" the words are flat and aloof as the elf turns to walk away, " I am fine Estel," the familiar mantra sounds wrong, hard and bitter, the normally lyrical voice a detached monotone, somehow grating to the ears .The young man reaches out a hand to grasp the archers arm as he goes to move off and is dismayed to feel it shrugged off, "Baw! No, let me go Estel!" there is a brief pause before the elf begins to move again, quickly covering the ground towards the house" leave me be! " and with this he is gone leaving the young man standing under the trees, alone, confused and with an unexplained feeling of loss.


	21. Chapter 21

Because you have all been so patient I thought I would post this update a little earlier than usual.

Thanks go to Leah221 for following and to anyone else who is still reading, especially DaHybridQueen who took the risk to do it where she shouldn't!

ILV (feeling too lazy to type it out in full!)- AKA mad no.1 reviewer - I was only away for 2 weeks, honest! and yes it was fun thanks. I can't help being horrid to Legolas, it just feels so good :P *tries to catch wagging finger* You wouldn't be reading otherwise now would you? * Tries to raise one eyebrow like Elrond but fails miserably* Hehehe. You'll have to wait and see if you are right about the guilt thing! Keep those reviews coming, they really make my day. Oh, and btw. I'm not a boy if that helps!

Ok, here we go with the next chapter. Hope you enjoy and please R + R!

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**Chapter 21**

In the two days following their fraught encounter in the gardens of Imladris the young man has neither seen nor heard the archers presence and the weight of his guilt and sorrow weighs heavily upon his heart. That the elf appears to be avoiding him is painfully obvious but he cannot fathom why this should be, nor the reason for the coldness he was met with. Estel is certain that if his friend would only talk to him it would help ease the guilt he must be feeling and is afraid that being alone will only increase Legolas' pain and sorrow.

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Seated in the family dining room, picking at his breakfast, he fails to notice the concerned glances shared between his adoptive father and siblings nor the approach of a young border guard who hands a message to Elrond then stands aside, awaiting further orders. On opening the small piece of parchment and perusing its short content the lord of Imladris wearily pushes his chair back from the table to stand. "They have crossed the border and will be with us within the hour," his low tone sounds resigned and the twins share a troubled glance before looking to their father, then at the unresponsive young man still pushing a piece of fruit around his plate. " Shall we greet them with you Ada?" There is no need to ask who is meant by the message as the twins speak in unison, finishing the sentence with a small, shared smile at their familiar trait. " I think that would be wise ionnath nin, my sons," Elrond replies gravely " the situation calls for a formal approach I feel and I will be glad of your support."

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"Do we know who has come yet?" the youngest twin speaks hesitantly as if unsure he wants to know the answer and Elrond shakes his head in reply " Nay, the message is not specific, just that a party of twelve has been noted, showing no formal banners or colours, headed in this direction, it must be assumed that they are the Mirkwood contingent we await, for no others are anticipated".The words gradually filter down through the young mans thoughts and there is suddenly a loud clatter when the silver fork he has been idly prodding his breakfast with falls to the porcelain plate as his fingers release their tenuous hold upon its handle. " Mirkwood! Here?" A flash of panic flows across his features and the peace is further shattered by the harsh scrape of a chair over the floor as he pushes away from the table to stand. "I must find him" a feeling of dread has filled Estels heart but he is unsure why. Surely an envoy from Legolas' home will comfort the young prince, encourage him to open up and talk thus helping him gain perspective upon the matter and aiding to wash away the fears and guilt he knows the young archer to be feeling. As he dashes out of the room paying them no heed, the three peredhil share a worried look, they are all aware of the way Estel has idolised the young prince since he was a young child brought to their fair realm for shelter by a mother newly grieving the loss of her beloved spouse and they feel that he has not fully grasped the seriousness of the situation now faced. "Shall I go after him?" Elladan asks his father with a concerned frown upon his fair face, aware of the pain within his brothers heart. "Nay," the lord replies with a shake of his head " he needs to face up to reality." The twins mirror each others surprised expression at this stern statement." As does the Greenleaf". He draws himself up to his full height and squares his shoulders " be prepared to meet our guests at the entrance within the hour," and with that statement exits the room.

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Left together with the remains of breakfast the twins seat themselves once more at the long table. "What do you think they will do to him?" Elrohirs voice sounds small as he looks to his brother, " I don't know 'Roh" the elder twin brushes his fingertips over the back of his brothers hand in a subconscious attempt to soothe him as he responds " I have never known such a thing before, it is difficult to say". The youngest twin moves his hand to grasp the moving fingers and still them " but surely, they will understand" he pauses to gaze into his brothers eyes for reassurance " it was in self defence, there was nothing Legolas could have done otherwise" his eyes underline the unspoken question within the words then widen as he sees his brothers harden.

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"And do we know that for certain 'Roh?" Elladan pulls his hand from his brothers grip, " As father said, we were not there for the beginning of the fight, we only witnessed the end, how can we be sure of his intent?" Steely eyes darken further. "How did it begin? We know not the who or the why of it all."Shock flashes across Elrohirs face at his brothers words, " How can you doubt him?" the normally soft voice increases in volume as the younger bridles at the elder " How long have we known him? Fought beside him? Loved him as a brother?" his face flushed with anger, Elrohir is almost shouting now " Would you say this if it was I in the same situation?"

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Aware that he is standing, nose to nose with his brother, but having no recollection of getting to his feet, the youngest twin feels the silence descend between them as a tangible presence. For what seems like hours but is in actual fact only seconds identical, turbulent brown eyes bore into each other battling for control before he breaks contact and drops his gaze. " I thought I knew you, brother" the whispered words cut through Elladans chest like a knife " but I find I do not," the younger twins shoulders slump "not any longer." Turning away he leaves his brother staring after him.

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An unspoken apology burns upon the elders lips but he refuses to back down, refuses to admit he is wrong when he does not feels he is, the fact is that they have a kinslayer in their midst, the very term makes Elladan shudder, and he finds it difficult to understand how anyone could fail to be horrified at that thought. An immortal life lost by another immortals hand, the victims fea unnaturally severed from hroa, fleeing to the halls of Mandos to await rebirth and once again become whole and complete whilst the perpetrator becomes doomed to everlasting separation, condemning his fea to become one of the dispossessed, constantly seeking its other half yet divided till the end of the earth. A cold chill runs down his spine and as his mind reflects upon his feelings, he recognises that the factor which hits him hardest of all though, is that what his brother has just said is true. He would feel exactly the same if it were his twin standing accused of the crime and as that realisation dawns his legs buckle from under him and he lands in a heap on the floor still staring after the retreating figure, wishing desperately to call him back but not knowing what he would say if he did.

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Blissfully unaware of the conflict between his siblings Estel wanders through the gardens of the only place he has ever called home and ponders upon the focus of all their thoughts. He is certain that once Legolas has been given the chance to talk, to explain all that has happened, everything will return to normal and his friend and he can pick up their lives again. The coldness he witnessed at their last meeting must be a passing phase due only to the young archers grief and feelings of misplaced guilt. He is only too aware of how hard the prince drives himself, how easily he takes on burdens unperceived by others and refuses to accept anything but perfection in all he undertakes. No one could be harder on him than Legolas is himself. There is no doubt in the young mans mind of the purity of his friends thoughts and deeds and that anybody else could doubt this would be beyond his comprehension, if, in fact it were ever to enter his mind. "Where are you my friend?" the whispered words fall away into the serene air, unheeded by speaker and unheard by all except the trees and they silently refuse to give up an answer.


	22. Chapter 22

I cant believe how many of you are reading this story. *Bows* Thankyouthankyouthankyou. I hope this means you are enjoying it! Thanks also to those of you who have reviewed, followed or favourited so far. It's muchly appreciated. :)

ILV - *takes cookies and coffee* gosh! that has to be the shortest review from you ever! *Nearly chokes on cookie* Hope that isn't a bad sign. Thanks for the lovely review for the poems too. I'm glad you like them.

*Sends Legolas to DaHybridQueen* - can you talk some sense into him, he's not listening to me!?

To the anonymous reviewer - I'm so glad you're enjoying it. To hear you say it pulls you in makes me hope that I'm getting something right! :)

So... on we go. Please R+R. *Hits 'publish' and runs to hide*

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**Chapter 22**

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Thwock! Thwock! Thwock! The world has narrowed to a single point within a target. All else is forgotten as the young archer becomes one with his favoured weapon, blotting out all sense of time and space with the bow he has borrowed from the armoury, grief and cares swept away in a tide of fast flowing wood and feathers. Reaching back to his quiver again questing fingers finally encounter emptiness and he begins the long walk to retrieve his arrows from the centre spot they have flown to with pin point accuracy. His mind begins to wander once more with the movement of his feet and he finds himself thinking of the elf who first taught him to hold a bow. How excited he was on that day. He can remember as if it were yesterday the feel of the smooth wood against his palm, the sharpness of the string against yet uncalloused fingers, the powerful pull against arm and shoulder of an unfamiliar weight, all so strange and uncomfortable, painful even, yet filling his heart with joy as he finally began the journey to fulfil his youthful dream to become the best archer in his fathers realm.

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He smiles softly to himself as he reaches out to snag the first arrow from the well used target he has now reached, then freezes, his fingers closed around the shaft as his mind pictures his old mentor as he was then, standing behind him, guiding his arms into position for the first time, talking him through the process carefully, before finally letting him release the arrow from its temporary home then joining in with joyous amazement as they watch it fly straight and true to its intended target. That had been a glorious day and although not all of the arrows shot had been so surely sent Legolas had later basked in the praise from the elder when his achievements were discussed with his father over their evening meal. He can see them now as if they were there, his father and Lhosson, one seated beside him under the star spotted canopy the other opposite, toasting the elflings success with glasses of deep burgundy wine, fair faces flushed with joy and vitality their silvery laughter ringing through the air. The happiness in his heart out weighing the burning ache in his overused muscles.

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With a despondent sigh he returns to reality and feels a sharp stab of pain strike through his heart at the realisation that this scene will never again be played. The elf he held second in his heart only to his father will never again join them to feast under the trees, never again send his laughter to mingle with theirs, sing, dance or make merry with them and with this his hands fall limply to his sides, his bow falls neglected at his feet and he bows his head in grief. Grief for the sundered elf, grief for his father and grief for the life he knows he can never regain.

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It is in this apparently dejected stance that Estel finds his elven friend. He has made his way to the archery fields with the hope that Legolas would be indulging in the routine of practice to help distract his mind from the recent tragedy. Heart heavy, yet optimistic he approaches the young prince, intent on delivering the good news of the impending arrivals and bends to retrieve the abandoned bow from the grass. Holding it in one, youthful hand he nervously reaches out with the other to gently touch a forlorn shoulder and is startled when, in a move faster than blinking, the elf in front of him turns to grasp his extended wrist tightly with one forceful, deceptively slender hand of his own, whilst a glinting blade is held to his throat with the other. Eyes change from sky blue to darkest indigo as they fix onto his own and he can feel the anger emanating from the elfs slight frame. For the first time in their long friendship he feels afraid of this being, and understands how intimidatingly deadly the warrior can be. He feels the hold on his wrist increase and begins to wonder if the bones will shatter under the crushing pressure, an involuntary groan issues from between now gritted teeth and his heart begins to race maddeningly within his chest as the knife is drawn slowly across fear sensitized skin. Then, as suddenly as it began, the hand releases its grip and the sharpness at his throat disappears, he stumbles slightly in relief. A nightmare stretching into forever has passed within a brief moment of time and he realises just how close he may have come to losing his life. "Legolas…" the name is breathed out, part question, part accusation as he struggles to regain composure, feeling the need to speak yet unsure quite what to say.

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"Estel." In contrast his own name sounds harsh on the air as the young prince snaps it out, his usually musical, fluid tones now clipped and frosty. " You should know better than to sneak up behind an armed elf, adan!" The young man initially stiffens at the harsh words, then a smile tugs weakly at the corners of his mouth and he utters a short nervous laugh, wishing to believe that his friend is teasing him yet unsure if this is truly the case. " You should not let down your guard enough to allow it to happen, elf" the attempt at the usual, bantering mocking tone is not quite right to his own ears yet he is astounded by the reaction it produces. Normally they would both be breaking out in mirthful teasing at this point, each trying to convince the other they had got the upper hand but there is no joy to be found in the face suddenly thrust into his own.

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" You try to mock me, human!" Estel finds his heartbeat has once more begun to speed erratically as eyes, cold as a winters sky laden with snow, bore into him, stripping away all his years, until he feels as lost as a child in the wilderness. Features, once fair and glowing with light have become hard, with sharp angles casting shadows onto pale skin. " I asked you once," a voice, unrecognisable in its harshness, issues from a mouth twisted in disgust, "to leave me alone." A pause in which there is no movement or sound, even the very air around them seems frozen in time, then " I tell you now for the last time," the elf continues, drawing out the last three words as if in a threat, " leave, me, alone," each word is kept separate from the last in emphasis before the final sentence is uttered with deadly coldness and Estels heart finally stops beating briefly before being ripped from his chest, "or face the consequences!" The elf slowly brings his knife up in a graceful arc, just nicking the skin on the humans left ear lobe enough to cause a small,bright red, bead of blood to well up, then re-sheathes it at his belt, snatches his bow from nerveless fingers, turns and stalks off the practice field and into the cover of the trees.

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The young man feels his legs turn to jelly and, as they become unable to sustain his weight, he sinks slowly to the ground, disbelief painted on features that suddenly appear lost and almost childlike once more. His mind reels, trying to take in what just happened and make some sense out of it but all he can visualise are two icy, almost black orbs that are tearing into his heart and turning it to ash.

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As he uses all of his will power to walk away silver tears begin to trace tracks down the young archers pallid cheeks. He knows it had to be done, but has never found anything so hard in the undertaking before. He longs to turn around, rush back to the young man, embrace him and tell him he didn't mean it, it was all just another prank, then laugh with joyous abandon, teasing his friend over the look on his face as he was taken in again. Yet he can not. This time it must feel real. He must not let his taint rub off on his truest friend, on any of his friends. He cannot allow them to be marred by association to a kinslayer, for that is what he is, it is for the best. Estel will eventually come to forget that they were ever close, unlike elves mans memories fade over time, other friends will come to take his place and in the fullness of time he may even create a family of his own and there will be nothing to stand in his way, to despoil his name or that of his children. Legolas is unsure of what else may happen but he knows this is the least he can do to ensure the young mans future happiness.

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Reaching a tall elm tree, he leans into its sturdy trunk, placing his forehead against the rough bark and breathing in its rich, woody scent deeply. "Ai, Valar, but it is so hard." The tree gently dips a bough as if wishing to stroke the anguished elf and bring some comfort to a heart close to breaking as tears drip onto the ground covering waiting roots. " Tirith or huin, Elbereth, watch over him Elbereth, keep him safe." With this plea Legolas raises his head to gaze upwards towards the sky as if searching to find the one for whom it is meant, willing the prayer to be heard, and thereby easing the ache he feels deep within himself for the hurt he has caused, both knowingly and unknowingly. Taking in another deep breath he finally manages to stem the flow of tears and begins to listen to the trees talk of visitors entering the last homely house. This is it. He knows his presence will soon be required and must prepare himself for what lies ahead, he can afford no more time to grief or might have beens, the past is over, the future is still in flux, the present is what must now be endured. Drawing upon the last of his resolve he wipes determined eyes on his sleeves, rearranges his features into an emotionless mask and begins the walk back to Elronds house keeping his head held high, all he has left now is his pride and he clutches at this like a drowning man in a storm tossed sea does to a flimsy raft.


	23. Chapter 23

Well, I think I probably upset a lot of you with that last chapter and I'm afraid its not going to get much easier in this one but if you will just hang on in there things will all start to make sense soon. I know Legolas is being rather OOC here and I lost count of the ammount of times I re wrote it all to try to make it at least a little believable but I hope after this chap and the next you will understand why he is being this way.

DahybridQueen thanks for trying to get legolas to see sense but I don't think it worked. He's gonna need a lot of hugs to get round this one!

ilovevolleyball I appreciate the crit, its needed if going to learn and improve my writing, which is something I really would love to do so bring it on girl! I hope in the end you can see why I have made him act the way he has. Thanks also for the comments on Lament for Boromir, I always feel he gets rather a bad press and wanted to just even things up a little. Oh yes and btw *Hands back empty mug and plate* any chance of a refill?

So, heres the next update. If anyone IS still reading this after the last chapter I hope you enjoy it and please R+R *begs*

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**Chapter 23**

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Elrond can sense that his sons have been arguing, they stand, on either side of him, faces stony and drawn, staring straight ahead as if trying to ignore each others existence, silently emanating such a frosty force as to be almost tangible. He has not seen them so at odds with each other for tens of years and wonders at the cause. That it has to do with recent events he is certain yet can not tell why or how it could have brought them into such obvious conflict and regrets there is not the time to draw them into discussion now. Pushing the thoughts of his sons rare display of contention aside he steps forward to greet the party of mounted elves that have ridden far to reach his home, " mae govannen, well met, my friends," he intones with a deferential nod of his regal head as he carefully assesses each one with a quick glance, searching for one face in particular and unsure whether to be relieved or concerned when he does not find it. " Come, let my stable hands tend to your mounts whilst we go inside," he motions to a waiting group of elves to come forward to begin leading the horses away, "you must be requiring refreshment after your long journey, and afterwards I will have someone show you to your lodgings." He stands aside with a gesture to the foreign party to precede him into the last homely house, then follows behind with his sons, as servants lead the way through to the large dining area where food and drink has been laid out in welcome.

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"Lord Elrond," the speaker, a haughty, dark haired elf with sharp eyes the colour of emeralds, detaches himself from the, as yet, silent group, as they enter the dining hall and approaches the elder with an expression of disdain upon his face, " a word, if you would be so kind." His silky tone implies there is no choice given in the matter and Elrond meets his gaze with cool brown eyes, one eyebrow slightly raised in unspoken reproof. " We will not be requiring rooms," the envoy continues, ignoring the pointed look, " our business will not take long and I would wish to tarry here as little as possible." A current of icy air seems to wend its way around the silent room and Elrond realises that this is the only member of the Mirkwood contingent to have uttered a single word so far, and with such open hostility that when his eyes glance around the room he half expects to see an array of arrows directed towards him from determinedly bent bows. Mentally shaking his head to dispel the unwanted vision he allows a small smile to play around the corners of his mouth before inclining his head towards the speaker before him " as you wish," he then waves towards the food and drink, "however, you will partake of our provisions before you leave us surely," Turning away he walks over to the table and, lifting two glasses containing his favourite ruby wine, offers one out to the foreign elf with a questioning look, "it is a long road to travel in hunger and thirst." The visitor leaves him holding the wine out for a fraction of a second longer than politeness should allow before moving to take it and raising it first to his nose then to his lips for the smallest of tastes. A look of surprise fleets across his face to be replaced, once again by the slight disdain it has worn throughout their encounter. Elrond suppresses a grin of satisfaction, " my favourite vintage," he states coolly," I believe you may find it to your liking." He takes a sip of the dark red wine and savours the flavour as it dances across his tongue, his deep brown eyes almost daring the other elf to disagree."

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"It is, quite pleasant," as the Mirkwood elf replies his lips turn up in a cold smile that does not reach his eyes, " we thank you for your hospitality, it will help revive us for the homeward journey." With these words, spoken as if by rote, he gestures for his companions to approach the table " the Lord of Imladris is too kind to us, refresh yourselves but only lightly, we have far yet to travel." The order given, the remainder of the visiting company begin to help themselves to food and drink, and he turns back to find three pairs of chestnut eyes boring into him. The twins have momentarily forgotten their earlier dispute at the undercurrent of insolence being directed to their father by this arrogant stranger and stand behind him in silent support. Dressed in formal dark robes, their black hair in warrior braids and their dark eyes flashing with suppressed anger, even though they appear unarmed they present an air of intimidation that even the strongest warrior finds difficult to ignore. They glare silently, privately impressed by the self control presented, as the only sign of discomfort shown by the visitor is a slight widening of his eyes as he looks from one to the other of the mirror images in front of him then back to their father once more.

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"Ah, the infamous Peredhil orc slayers," his voice drips with honey, over sweet and cloying, " I have long wanted to see if the stories of you are true," he inclines his head in a slight nod " it would appear that they are." His face remains cool and unemotional as his gaze travels over the twins as if assessing their worth before dismissing them as if unimportant and returning to their father. Bristling with barely controlled anger Elladan takes half a step forward, his mouth open, ready to tell this haughty being exactly what he thinks of him when he feels his arm grasped in a steely grip and hears a whispered hiss as his brother warns him to stay.

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" Elladan, Elrohir, please see to our guests." Delivering the order in a commanding tone they know all too well, Elrond waves his hand in the general direction of the remaining contingent of elves before nodding to the spokesman in front of him. The lord of Imladris can feel the fury building within his sons and he wishes to diffuse the situation as quickly as possible. " Is there anything else you require?" he turns a questioning look upon the visitor, relieved when the twins, after a further stony glare, turn away and approach the gently murmuring group by the table.

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"There is only one other thing I have need of" the coldness in the elfs tone sends a slight shiver down Elronds spine " and I thought to find him here with you, or does he hide himself away in shame" Contempt runs through the statement as his face is twisted into a grimace of distaste. " Or perhaps you have him held somewhere to await our determination of his fate?" his eyebrows raise in question and he holds the lords eyes with a mocking gaze. "No? I thought not" he states at the slight shake of the head Elrond has been unable to stop himself from making. " The Noldor were ever a race to hold themselves above the laws of all others." With this utterance he takes another sip of wine from the glass still lightly gripped in his elegant hand, staring at Elrond over the rim as if willing him to rise to the implied slur, but the lord has many centuries of experience in diplomacy and has perfected the art of maintaining an aloof demeanor in the face of more skilled adversaries than this.

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" I presume it is Prince Legolas to whom you refer?" Elronds voice remains calm and unemotional, placing a slight emphasis on the royal title in an attempt to remind the spokeman of the etiquette he should be employing. " I am certain he will join us as soon as he discovers you have arrived." The Lord takes another sip from his glass and allows his tone to gain a little edge with his next words. " He will welcome a friendly face from home after his recent ordeal." Watching the other carefully as he speaks, Elrond notes the hardening of green eyes and the clench of the jaw that he has been hoping not to see. He feels his heart drop as he realises that his assumptions were correct. The wood elves are a stubborn race and cling to ritual and tradition with a single minded fervour unseen in all other realms. He had hoped that Thranduil would be able to see past this for his son but fears the young archer may have an uncomfortable time ahead of him. However, although he and the King do not see eye to eye on many things, he is certain the love he has for his own sons is mirrored in that of Thranduil for Legolas and this, given with the absence of the volatile Monarch himself, lends a surety that all will, in the end be well.

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As if conjured up by their conversation, it is at this moment the young prince in question enters the hall. The hushed conversations that have been filling the air still and each head turns to follow his progress as he moves across the room with an air of quiet dignity until he stands in front of Elrond and the advisor from Mirkwood. He acknowledges the lord with a slight dip of his head then fixes his gaze upon the elf from his homeland, face an expressionless mask, standing as if a warrior awaiting orders from a captain in his kings army. The silence within the room turns thick with anticipation as the spokesmans eyes take in every inch of the young elf in front of him, lips curling in distaste as they linger on the borrowed bow and empty quiver upon his back and then again at the ivory handled long knife sheathed at his belt.

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"Show obesience to your Kings will!" Steel is in the words as they reverborate around the room and the twins eyes widen to see Legolas comply without a word, dropping to his knees as if felled by an axe, head bowed in deference, face obscured by a curtain of golden hair. "Raise your eyes" the authority in the speaker is undeniable and the young archer again complies swiftly, raising his head to meet the stony gaze fixed upon him by his fathers representative, a brief flicker of apprehension within his sapphire eyes passing so quickly that Elrond is unsure if it is real or imagined. " Legolas Thranduillion, you are charged with the crime of Kinslaying," a grimace of distaste twists his mouth and there is a portentous pause as the spokesmans glare grows icier before he continues. "How do you plead?" All movement and sound in the room ceases as every eye is fixed upon the young prince, the atmosphere growing as tense as a bow string ready for release as he opens his mouth to reply, his face devoid of all emotion. Elrond feels time slow and stands, unable to speak or move, as the sudden premonition of what answer will come hits him and his heart lurches to an abrupt halt when the words fall from the archers mouth.

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"Guilty, hir nin, my lord."


End file.
